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SINNER 
3R VICTIM ? 

BY DORA DELMAR. 



iiUNROS PUBLICATIONS. 


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SINNER OR VICTIM? 


BY 

y 

DORA DELMAR. 


“ Not my own 

The hand which builds this wall between our lives; 

In its cold shadow, grown 
To perfect shape, the flower of love survives.” 



K IV 

Copyright, 1895, by George Munro’s Sons. 


NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO’S SONS, PUBLISHERS, 

17 to 27 VANDEWATER STREET. 


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SINNER OR VICTIM? 


CHAPTER I. 

THE DIAMOND ROBBERY AT RODENHURST. 

It was the dusk of an early day of “ chill October/* and 
the fire that burned in the ample grate of a large, hand- 
somely furnished room on a ground floor in King's Bench 
Walk, Temple, looked cheerful and home-like; the more 
so as, at present, the glow of the dancing flames was the 
only light in the apartment. 

The occupant of these chambers must have been among 
the lucky few to whom the bar is bread instead of a stone, 
for the appointments denoted the possession of abundant 
means. 

The floor was well, even richly, carpeted; the furniture 
was all of oak, and a book-case filled with books occupied 
one entire side of the room. 

Added to these evidences of prosperity were the goodly 
piles of briefs on the large center-table. One of these lay 
open, and a chair pushed back from the table seemed to 
indicate that the document had been recently under discus- 
sion. 

Successful? Any ordinary newspaper-reader could tell 
you that Yere Lorraine was one of the most successful men 
of his day, for there was hardly an important case in which 
he did not hold a leading brief. 

But then, gifted though the man was with an unusually 
handsome person, and the silver tongue of a Follet to en- 
hance the effect of his eloquence, he came to the bar with 
every social advantage. 

He was of ancient family, the grandsoon of a peer, and 
left Christ Church with brilliant honors and a fellowship; 
so when he took silk before he had been ten years at the 
bar, no one was surprised. Such a career is rare; but 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


then also rare are the qualifications and social advantages 
combined which make it possible. 

Two men occupied Mr. Lorraine’s rooms on this par- 
ticular afternoon; one lounged comfortably in an arm- 
chair near the fire; the other leaned carelessly against the 
mantel-piece. 

The profession of the first would have been easy to de- 
termine; the hair worn somewhat longer than is usual, the 
clothes carried negligently, the tie loose, proclaimed the 
artist as much as the fine-cut face, in which the imagi- 
native organs were more prominent than the intellectual. 

The profession of his companion was not so easily deter- 
mined. Few, if any, would have supposed him* to be a 
lawyer, any more than they would have given him more 
than thirty years in age, though he had in reality reached 
his fourth decade. A tall, slight, aristocratic-looking 
man, with a bearing and tout ensemble that seemed super- 
ficially rather to suggest St. James’s Street than the Tem- 
ple, was the brilliant advocate nicknamed at the bar 
“Handsome Lorraine.” 

But a face and head displaying such intellectual power, 
such force of will, such strength of purpose, as this man’s, 
is nbt seen often where the chief occupation is to kill time. 

Lorraine’s features were as finely cut as his companion’s, 
and more strictly handsome; and the soft, dark mustache 
shaded a mouth which in repose betrayed lines of suffering; 
the eyes, large, dark, and peculiarly brilliant, possessed 
those combined qualities of penetration and secretiveness 
which nature bestows on some few temperaments, and 
habit makes into a second nature — a useful quality for a 
lawyer. 

There had been a short silence between the two men, 
which the younger broke. 

“ A very odd case,” he said. 44 What’s your opinion of 
it? That’s why I popped in upon you— I should like to 
know what you think!” 

4 4 1 can scarcely answer you fully, Hazlemere,” returned 
Lorraine, his eyes fixed on the fire; 44 the facts are not all 
before me.” 

Ulric Hazlemere burst out laughing. 

44 There spoke the lawyer,” he said. 44 Why, the whole 
case was before the magistrate yesterday — you have read 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


7 


“ Every line/’ replied Lorraine, smiling a little, “ and 
I read this — that a certain Miss Beryl Cardan, whom I 
never saw, though I have heard of her as a great beauty, is 
staying at Rodenhurst with my friends the Rodens — that 
Miss Enid Roden, in a fit of girlish enthusiasm for this 
lovely visitor, tells her where the famous Roden diamonds 
are kept — that shortly afterward the diamonds disappear — 
that Miss Carolan is accused of stealing them — that she was 
seen under suspicious circumstances prowling about the 
house — that none of the jewels is found in her possession — 
that nobody knows, after all, who she is — only that she has 
lived very much abroad. These are the facts deposed to.” 

“ And very ugly facts!” exclaimed Hazlemere. “ Don't 
you think it looks very black against Miss Carolan?” 

“ Very black; but there may be other facts not yet dis- 
covered.” 

“ Oh! you’re too cautious for anything!” cried the young 
painter. 

“ No — only just and careful. Mon cher , you are like 
the rest of the world; a primd facie case is made out— at 
once you jump to a conclusion, which in six cases out of 
ten is a wrong one, and in three others premature. Miss 
Carolan’s own conduct is strange; she does not, according 
to the evidence, either admit or deny — but then, that is, 
perhaps, a point in her favor.” 

“ I don’t follow you.” 

“ As a rule,” said Lorraine, “ an innocent man, charged 
with a crime, denies it; and so does a guilty man, unless 
taken red-handed; but Miss Carolan was not taken red- 
handed; yet it is stated that when accused of the theft, she 
was silent, offered no opposition to the searching of her 
luggage, and, in effect, took up an entirely negative posi- 
tion. Before the magistrate she makes no defense, reserv- 
ing it for her trial.” 

“But you don’t mean to say,” said Hazlemere, “that 
you think her behavior is consistent with perfect inno- 
cence?” 

“Not on the face of it — no. I repeat that the case 
against her looks very black; but then neither you nor I 
know all the facts; or, to speak more accurately, we ought 
to hold our judgment until we see what the defense will 
be.” 

“ Well, I don’t think it was very wise in the magistrate 


8 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

to admit her to bail," said Hazlemere. ec She has plenty 
of time to truck the diamonds away, supposing she took 
them, and I can't help thinking she did." 

“ If she did," returned Lorraine, “ she got rid of them 
before the loss was discovered. It was a very imprudent 
thing of Enid to make a confidante of a stranger — a close 
tongue makes a wise head; though that is hardly a proverb 
one can expect a girl of twenty to adopt practically. On 
one point, however," he added, 66 1 have made up my 
mind— and that is, that Roden ought never to have prose- 
cuted." 

“ Why not? Probably Miss Carolan is a case-hardened 
adventuress, who has been in similar snarls before, and got 
out of them, Heaven knows how. Through her lovely 
face, no doubt. You ought to be a thorough cynic, Vere. 
You’re bad enough sometimes, and now, have you been 
falling in love on the q. t., and so becoming romantic 
about the sex in general?" 

Lorraine laughed and ran his fingers through his curly 
dark hair. 

“ Ho, no, Hazlemere, I’m not in love, thank Heaven! 
and I dare say this girl is case-hardened; still, it’s a hor- 
rible thing for a young woman to stand in the criminal 
dock; and I, for one, could never put one there unless her 
crime were so monstrous and inhuman as to put her beyond 
the pale of pity or sympathy. Sometimes," he said, 
slowly, turning his gaze to the fire again, “ it is those who 
have seen the most of human depravity, till their faith in 
human nature is well-nigh sapped, who can feel the most 
deeply for some of those who come to the felon’s dock." 

“ Lorraine," said the painter, after a pause, “ you’re of 
too fine a fiber for a lawyer; I’ve often thought that." 

The other looked up and smiled. 

“ Have you?" he said, dropping into a chair near him. 
“ Ah, no; the majority of cases that come before us don’t 
call for sentiment or compunction; but now and then, I 
confess — well, never mind, I won’t confess anything; but 
certainly I never regret having come to the bar." 

“ You’ve no cause, you lucky dog!" sighed Hazlemere, 
giving the fire a vigorous poke. “ It’s we poor painters 
who have to regret that we ever took up our trade." 

“ Don’t pull a long face, Hazlemere* It's just possible 

I may bo able to get you a OGmmteioo to puiut a portrftit/' 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


9 


m 


“ What a brick you always are, Vere! Whose portrait?” 
exclaimed Hazlemere. 

“You shall know all about it when the matter is 
settled,” replied Lorraine. “ Don't build upon it — that's 
all." 

“ I won’t— that is. I'll try not to.” 

But Hazlemere knew very well that his friend never 
spoke of a subject like this at all until he knew that the 
matter was pretty well in his own hands; so, not unnatu- 
rally, the young artist did build upon the hope held out, 
for Vere Lorraine never failed any one. 

“ 1 wonder,” he said, after a pause, “ if the Rodens will 
want you to lead in the prosecution?” 

A shade fell on Lorraine’s fine face. 

“ 1 hope not,” he said, shortly. 

“ You don't like holding a brief against a woman?” 

“No; especially in such a case as this.” 

“ I wonder,” Hazlemere went on, “ that you never came 
across the girl — 'Beryl Carolan, 1 mean. I’m not such a 
swell as you are — but you might have met her. They say 
she is so lovely. I suppose her father, or uncle, or what- 
ever he is, must have had some introductions?” 

“Why, yes; the girl was so well received. The uncle 
never goes out; he is lame or bedridden, I forget which. 
What a come-down for her! for if she is acquitted of this 
charge, she can never be thoroughly cleared. She will lose 
her present position.” 

“ Do you think she will be acquitted?” 

-“ I can't say. If the evidence against her is not 
strengthened, I would undertake to get her off. Very 
likely she would escape, anyhow, unless convincing evi- 
dence turns up. Juries are wonderfully susceptible to 
female beauty, and judges not as impervious as they would 
have the world believe.” 

Hazlemere laughed, and rose. 

“ Though not quite as bad as artists, eh?” he said. 
“ Well, I must be off, or you’ll have to work into the small 
hours.” 

“ No, not to-night,” returned Lorraine, rising also. “ I 
shall read for another hour; I want to master that brief ” — 
pointing to the table — “ to-night, and then I shall levant.” 

“ I should die under half the work you do, Lorraine. 


10 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


What nerve-power, as the doctors call it, you must have! 
Good-bye; see you soon again, I hope.” 

“ Good-bye, old fellow. Yes; I may drop in on Sun- 
day, if you’re at home.” 

“ Take care I am if there’s a chance of your coming.” 

“ Then I’ll say for certain, and I may have news for you. 
Will yoh tell Forster, on your way out, to come and light 
the lamps?” 

Hazlemere nodded, caught up his hat, and went out, 
and a minute later a clerk came in and lighted the lamps 
and replenished the fire. 

“ Forster,” said his master, as the young man was going 
out, “ you can leave at seven.” 

“Very well, sir, thank you.” 

Lorraine turned to the table and sat down, but for a 
minute he paused, and a strange, far-away look came into 
his dark eyes. 

“ Was it all a dream?” he said to himself, but not 
audibly. “ Sometimes it seems so real, at others as vague 
as a sick man’s fancy. Would to Heaven I could know !” 
He pressed his hands tightly to his temples. “ Bah! it 
must have been a dream — even as I try to grasp it, it 
fades from me — only a dream!” 

He pulled himself together, and drawing the brief toward 
him, bent over it, reading quickly, yet grasping every 
detail with the readiness of a mind at once large and acute. 


CHAPTER II. 

LILIAN BERYL CA ROLAN. 

At five minutes to seven there was a knock at the door, 
and Forster entered the room. 

“ A lady wishes to see you, sir,” he said. 

Lorraine looked up in some surprise. He saw ladies 
sometimes at his chambers accompanied by their solicitors; 
but as counsel only take instructions through a solicitor, 
Lorraine might well wonder what a lady coming alone 
could want with him. 

“ Did the lady give her name, Forster?” he said. 

“ No, sir; I asked her, but she told me I was only to say 
a lady wanted to see you, if you could possibly spare her a 
little time.” 


SLOTER OR VICTIM? 


11 


“ Very well; show her in, Forster.” 

“ And shall I wait, sir?” 

Lorraine glanced at the clock and smiled. 

“ No,” he said, “ I need not keep you.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” 

Forster withdrew after placing a chair, and, opening the 
door wider, ushered into the room, with his best bow, a 
lady. 


A lady, young, tall, and slender, richly clothed in a long 
black velvet redingote trimmed deep with sables; on her 
head a black velvet Spanish hat with drooping feathers. 

But the girFs beauty — she seemed no more than a girl — 
would have shone conspicuous in the apparel of a peasant; 
beauty, too, of an unusual type, short curling hair of a 
reddish gold, straight black eyebrows, eyes of the rare 
sapphire -blue, which, under the shade of the long black 
lashes, appeared as dark as the lashes; a complexion 
pure and clear as opal, which, if it had a fault, was in 
being too pale. And yet the charm of that countenance 
lay in something so far more potent than loveliness of form 
and coloring, that Lorraine, even in the first inward start 
of wondering admiration which the sight of rare beauty 
provokes, felt that, with irregular features and a com- 
paratively insignificant presence, his visitor would have 
possessed something that marked her out from other 
women, and excited an interest wholly unique. 

The lady paused near the door as if somewhat em- 
barrassed, and returned Lorraine’s bow with a bend of the 
head that struck him keenly as having in it a curious 
touch of humility and shame. Perhaps, flashed through 
his mind, she had expected to find an older man that he 
was, and scarcely felt prepared to explain herself to him; 
but he said with the gentle courtesy habitual to him — even 
to witnesses — rarest of counsel: 

“ Pray be seated; I am at your service.” 

A sudden flash of color across the girl’s face, a sudden 
compression of the lips, as if she had received a shock of 
mental or physical pain; then in a soft, low voice, speak- 
ing hurriedly : 

“ Thank 3*011, very much. I hope you can really spare 
me a few minutes, Mr. Lorraine?” 

She seated herself as she said this, and Lorraine resumed 
his own seat. 


12 


SINNER OR YICTIM? 


“ Many minutes,” lie answered, “ and with the great- 
est pleasure, if I can help you in any way.” 

“ Thank you,” she said again, “ that is very kind of you 
to speak so / 7 She was not looking at him, but straight 
before her, and his penetrating eyes were covertly watch- 
' ing her striking face. “I am sure you can help me — if 
you will — that is / 7 she went on. “ if I am wrong in coming 
to you, you will tell me so and forgive me; I don’t know 
what is right in England, and my case might be too small 
for a great advocate like you.” 

The closing words of this speech explained something in 
intonation, appearance, and manner that was not English. 

Lorraine replied: 

“ If I can help you, I assuredly will. Is it advice you 
require, or assistance of counsel — of an advocate?” 

“ I want both,” she said, glancing at him a moment. 
<c You do not know me, Mr. Lorraine?” 

It seemed an odd question. He smiled. 

“ No; I have never had the pleasure of seeing ycu be- 


fore.” 


Again a quick color rushed to her face, and faded as 



“lam Beryl Carolan,” she said. 

Yere Lorraine did not start outwardly; his visitor might 
have said: “ I am the Queen of England,” and he would 
have preserved his self-control; but mentally he did start; 
the announcement went to his heart like a stab; there 
seemed no sort of agreement between this more than beau- 
tiful girl and crime; but he answered directly: 

“ Do I understand that you wish me to undertake your 
defense?” 

“ Yes; that is, unless you have any objection; you are a 
friend of the Bodens — ” 

“ An advocate has nothing to do with friendship,” inter- 
rupted Lorraine, gently. “ I will hold a brief for you, if 
you wish it; I can not, indeed, professionally, refuse to do 
so, if you instruct your solictor to come to me. ” 

“ Thank you,” said the girl in a whisper. She seemed 
to struggle with herself for a moment; then she looked up. 

“ My solicitor?” she repeated, “ then —was I wrong to 
come to you? I am very sorry!” 

“ Pray, don’t say that. By the rrues of the profession, 
the case must be laid before mo by a solicitor, and it would 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


13 


anyhow be necessary for you to employ one, as there are 
certain details and formalities which can only be carried 
out by a solicitor. You could not be expected to know all 
this; and perhaps since you are here, I can be of some 
assistance to you.” 

44 Ah! then,” said Miss Carolan, hurriedly, 44 I am 
taking your time; I must not do that!” 

44 My time is at your service. Miss Carolan,” said Lor- 
raine, quietly; “do you know of any solicitor in whom you 
have confidence?” 

“No; 1 have had no need of law till now,” returned the 
girl, her eyes drooping. 

“ I can recommend you to a man, skillful, careful, and 
in every way trustworthy — a client of my own.” 

“You are very kind. I shall be so grateful,” said the 
girl; “ but I would like you to know — ” 

She stopped. 

Lorraine came to the rescue. 

“Iam ready,” he said, “ &> hear anything you wish to 
tell me.” 

Beryl Carolan’s brow cleared a little; but her sensitive 
lip quivered. 

“ Then you would prefer that I stated my case?” she 
said, with some hesitation. “ Only what 1 meant just now 
is that I — I have no defense.” 

A second’s pause. 

Then said Lorraine: 

“ I don’t quite follow. You plead 4 Not Guilty ’?” 

“ Is that only a formal plea?” 

“ It depends. According to the practice of the English 
law, you must plead either * Guilty,’ or 4 Not Guilty.’ If 
you refuse to plead, a plea of 4 Not Guilty ’ is entered on 
your behalf; but that does not entail upon you the neces- 
sity of calling any witnesses, or making any practical 
defense, if you do not choose to make any, or are not in a 
position to do so.” 

44 Yes — I understand; thank you.” 

Her head was drooping now; she spoke very low, and 
added: 

44 But then, if I make no defense — you might not wish 
to—” 

44 1 have nothing to do wfith your guilt or innocence,” 

said Lorraine, though he only felt the protojohfti truth of 


14 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


this statement. 44 My business is to prove that, acSSrding 
to law, you are innocent — that is, that you ought to be 
acquitted. Will you tell me the case from the beginning? 
and I will give you my opinion on its merits. Forgive my 
asking this of you; I have read the evidence before the 
magistrate; but I want to have the story in your own 
words, and to ask you a few questions.” 

He saw her wince at these last words, and it made his 
heart ache with a sharp, bitter pain; he added, with exceed- 
ing gentleness: 

44 You must feel, Miss Carolan, as if every word spoken 
to me were spoken to your confessor; at the same time, 
should I ask any question you prefer not to answer, I will 
not press it. It will make no difference in my undertak- 
ing your case, though it may affect the line I shall take. 
You went, I think, to stay at Rodenhurst early in Septem- 
ber?” 

The girl gave him a quick, grateful look, and replied at 
once: 

44 Yes; I met the Rodens in town, and Enid Roden took 
a great liking for me. They asked me to stay for a fort- 
night at first, and when it came to an end they asked me 
to remain another week. Enid used to talk to me a great 
deal, and one night she told me where the diamonds were — ” 

She stopped, flushing scarlet. 

Lorraine asked: 

44 Had you already any knowledge of this?” 

44 No; I did not know it until that night. Two days 
later — on the — th,” the girl went on, with an effort / 4 4 the 
jewels were missing. Mrs. Roden’s daughter May went to 
put away a brooch her mother had been wearing the even- 
ing before, and she saw that the cabinet had been opened — 
it was a cabinet in the music-room.” 

44 And Miss Roden saw you in or near the music-room at 
a late hour the night before the discovery?” 

He was watching her keenly, as he spoke, under the 
shelter of long lashes, which enabled him to appear unob- 
servant, while not a change of feature, however slight, 
escaped him. 

There was a change in Beryl Carolan. She lifted her 
eyes — eyes so clear yet so unfathomable — and gazed 
straight before her, and there was a subtle change in her 
tone, too, a something hard and desperate, as she replied: 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


15 


“ Yes — I was there — near the music-room.” 

“ ijnid Roden was surprised to see you?” 

“Yes; there was no reason for me to be where I was.” 

“ Y pu decline to give any reason?” 

“ Yes. There was a hue and cry raised about the jewels. 
Mr. Roden said every room must be searched. I did not 
oppose ! mine being searched. I said they could do what 
they liked * and they did; but they found nothing. Then 
Mr. Roden charged me with the theft. All his evidence 
is quite correct; I did say that I would not utter a word 
one way or the other. He sent for the police, and I was 
taken before the magistrate.” 

She did not display any emotion in relating this cruelly 
painful story; it seemed as if she had succeeded in crush- 
ing down all outward show of feeling, though Vere Lor- 
raine was convinced that inwardly she suffered tortures. 

Surely never did a woman, young, beautiful, well-born — 
she was certainly of gentle blood — cultured, tell so strange 
a tale to her counsel — a tale in which she was accused of a 
base crime, the more heinous in that it was an abuse of 
hospitality ; and yet her only defense was an obstinate 
silence. Was she guilty? It was not often that Vere Lor- 
raine was puzzled, but he was puzzled now. 

One thing was clear — that Beryl Carolan could, if she 
chose, tell something about the disappearance of the dia- 
monds; but was it her own guilt, or the guilt of another 
she strove to conceal ? or was she an agent — a thief in act, 
but not stealing for her own personal benefit? 

That she was alone responsible, Lorraine did not for a 
moment suppose. Why, in this case, should she hesitate 
to deny her guilt? The course she took was exactly cal- 
culated to fasten suspicion upon herself as the actual per- 
petrator of a crime of which, while there were doubtless 
other accomplices, she must, therefore, bear the responsi- 
bility. 

Lorraine sat silent and thoughtful for a few moments 
after his client ceased speaking; when he spoke he did not 
look covertly in her face, though still, as before, he 
watched her. 

4 4 Your defense, then. Miss Carolan,” he said, “is 
wholly negative. That is, you offer no evidence in your 
own favor — you simply challenge the prosecution to prove 
your guilt?” 


16 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Yes — that is it,” she said again, with that quietly 
reckless, unemotionless tone and manner. 

“ At the same time,” Lorraine went on, “you admit 
certain damaging facts — namely, that you were told where 
the jewels were kept, that you were found late at night in 
the immediate proximity of the music-room, where you 
had no legitimate business?” 

“Yes,” said Bend Carolan, a shade of anxiety in her 
tone but no change of color. 

“ I will speak frankly,” said Lorraine, after a pause, 
that he might gain perfect self-control; for though he had 
had often to tell cruel truths to clients, and had keenly 
felt the pain of doing so, the necessity had never cost him 
so much as it cost him this evening. “ As your counsel, I 
am bound to be perfectly honest with you. The case 
against you is legally strong — morally, all but overwhelm- 
ing; but if no further evidence crops up against you, I 
have no doubt of obtaining an acquittal ”— he saw her 
breast heave with a quick, silent breath — “ because, how- 
ever strong the assumption of guilt, no jewels, or imple- 
ments such as must have been used to open the cabinet, 
were found in your possession; your position and surround- 
ings, also, favor the contention that you are not a likely 
person to commit such a crime as that charged against you. 
I may add, Miss Carolan, that your sex, youth, and per- 
sonal advantages will influence the jury very considerably. ” 

She did not say a word, turning her head a little aside, 
and setting her firm lips close. But, still aud silent though 
she was, Yere Lorraine had seen too much of human 
nature, and studied it too carefully, not to perceive that 
she was undergoing a sharp mental struggle. 

In a minute or two she turned round again and rose to 
her feet. 

“I am very, very grateful to you, Mr. Lorraine,” she 
said. “ I thought — I feared I might be condemned; I feel 
safe now — legally, I mean; and you have been so kind — ” 

“ I have only done my duty, Miss Carolan.” 

“ There are so many ways of doing one’s duty,” said 
she; “ and yours has been a generous way.” 

“ It is good of you to say so,” Lorraine" answered. “ Let 
me give you this, please, before you go.” 

He drew out a card of his own, and wrote beneath his 
name, “ Mr. Green well, 201 Lincoln’s Inn Fields.” 


' SINKER OR VICTIM? 1? 

“ \ am sure/’ he added, handing his client the card, 
“ you will find Mr. Green well all that I have said of him.” 

“ Thank you a thousand times! Shall I leave vou mv 
addresfe?” 

“ It might be as well.” 

Beryl Carolan took out a dainty card-case, and gave 
Lorraine her card. 

The address was “ 97 Hanover Street, W.” 

“ Good-evening,” she said, bowing, but not offering her 
hand. 

Lorraine stepped forward to open the door for her. 

“ Have you a cab or carriage waiting?” he asked; “ or 
can I call a cab for you?” 

“ Thanks, I have a hansom waiting. Please don’t 
trouble,” as he followed her out. 

But Lorraine only smiled, and went with her to the cab, 
giving her his hand to assist her into the vehicle. He 
fancied — it might have been only fancy — that there was a 
second’s hesitation on the girl’s part before she resigned 
her hand to him. Perhaps a sense of shame oppressed her, 
feeling as she must that her position in regard to him was 
a humiliating one; but if this was so, Vere Lorraine had 
no mind to let her suppose he, on his part, accepted the 
position, for when she had taken her place in the cab and 
bowed adieu with a soft “ Thanks, so much,” he held out 
his hand. 

‘ 4 Good-bye,” he said, gently, with that touch of rever- 
ence in his manner which is not in these days common 
among even well-bred men toward women. 

There was a flash in the girl’s violet eyes, a sudden 
quiver of the lip, but she gave him her hand with an 
almost impulsive movement, and it trembled in the man’s 
strong clasp — the clasp that was more than kindly — ten- 
der, chivalrous. Erring though she might be, she was 
still a woman, and he a man, bound to judge her leniently 
— to extend to her mental, if not actual protection. Did 
Beryl Carolan feel all this? 

When Lorraine turned away she threw herself back in 
the corner of the cab, covering her face, striving, but 
striving now in vain, to choke down the passionate sob 
that rose in her throat. Perhaps she had been under even 
stronger tension during the last half hour than Vere Lor- 
raine wist of. Was a sense of guilt added to the anguish 


18 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


she endured? How should he dream what possibilities her 
life had once held? How should he divine what “might 
have been?” 

But when he returned to his chambers he did not resume 
the reading of the brief which Beryl Cardan's entrance had 
interrupted. That must do by and by, or to-morrow. 
He could not detach his thoughts from the woman who 
had come to him that day with so strange a tale. He 
could not shut out from his vision a face whose mere 
beauty might well have made a deep impression on any 
man; but it was something in itself, apart from and inde- 
pendent of beauty, though enhanced by it, that chained 
Vere Lorraine's interest. 

44 I would not,” he. said inwardly, as he sat by the fire 
and gazed in the dying embers, 44 have held a brief against 
that girl for the world. An adventuress — a thief! No, 
no; there is a mystery in her life worth the unraveling. 
Shall I ever reach the last thread? Best not try; the task 
would be a dangerous one for me. And yet there are 
people who, having once come into your life, can never 
leave it.'' 

He rose abruptly, as we do when trying to shake off 
some painful train of thought, and going to the table, 
took up the card his client had left. 

44 4 Lilian Beryl Carolan,' " he repeated. 44 The name 
seems to suit her. What has her past been? What can her 
future be?” 

He put the card in his pocket-book, and suppressing a 
sigh, began to tie up his brief, leaving it for the next 
morning. In a few moments the lights were out, and 
Yere Lorraine was on his way to his bachelor chambers in 
Albemarle Street. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE RODEN FAMILY'S OPINIONS. 

44 Come, Enid, mamma and I are both dying for some 
tea; do pour it out, there’s a good girl.” 

And the speaker seated herself on a low footstool in 
front of the fire; footstools being, in her opinion, far more 
comfortable than chairs or settees. 

It was the richly furnished drawing-room of a house in 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 19 

Kensington Gore. The rain was pouring without; but 
that ohly made the bright fire within more welcome, and 
the aroma of the tea more fragrant. 

A lady of about fifty, stout and gray-haired, the light- 
hued eyes kindly in expression, the mouth a little hard, 
was seated in an arm-chair at one side of the hearth, knit- 
ting in hand; opposite to her, beside a small table, on 
which stood the tea equipage, was a girl of perhaps 
twenty, or a year or two older, tall and slightly made, with 
a profusion of dark hair gathered above a" low, broad brow 
and those gazelle -brown eyes which express more sentiment 
than intellect. 

Enid Roden’s was a face not actually beautiful, yet one 
might call it lovely. 

May, a year younger than her sister, was of a wholly 
different type. .She had the same dark hair and brown 
eyes; but her eyes were full of laughter, and her whole 
countenance was bright and animated. There was more 
intelligence, too, in this face, the rosy lips firmer. Enid 
might be, to the majority of people, the more attractive; 
but a keen physiognomist would probably decide in May’s 
favor. 

Enid roused herself at her sister’s appeal. 

She had been leaning back in her chair, looking thought- 
ful and preoccupied. 

44 I beg your pardon,” she said; 44 I am sorry I kept 
you waiting. I was thinking.” 

44 And I, too,” said Mrs. Roden, laying down her knit- 
ting in her lap. 44 I almost wish now that I had tried to 
persuade your father not to go to Mr. Lorraine.” 

44 1 wish,” said Enid, half to herself, 44 that he had not 
charged Beryl at all.” 

4 4 So do I,” said May, overhearing, “ with all my heart.” 

4 4 What is it you do with all your heart. May?” asked 
Mrs. Roden. 

44 You know, mamma — wish that papa hadn’t prosecuted 
Beryl.” 

A shade — almost a frown — came on Mrs. Roden’s face. 

44 It is no use going over that ground again,” she said; 
44 the thing is done, and your father would not withdraw 
from it if he could. I feel very deeply for the girl’s posi- 
tion, but I really can not see any excuse for her.” 

44 We don’t know what her temptations were,” urged 


20 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


Enid — “ how she has been brought up — anything — even if 
she did steal the diamonds.” 

“ Even ! My dear Enid, you always look at things from 
the sentimental, and not the common-sense, point of view. 
There ought to be no temptation strong enough to make a 
w r ell-born, cultivated girl turn thief, and so shamefully 
abuse the hospitality extended to her; and Miss Cardan's 
silence only goes the more to prove her guilt. She is 
simply sheltering some one else — some lover, perhaps. I 
can not feel too thankful that we got rid of her. Heaven 
knows what depravity underlay so fair a surface.” 

“ Oh, mamma!” cried Enid, “ Beryl is not depraved!” 

“ How can you tell, my dear? You don’t know 
enough of the world to be a judge in such matters. You 
were dazzled by Miss Carolan’s beauty and her talents, and 
never saw below the surface.” 

“Nor did you, mamma,” said downright May, with 
nineteenth-century irreverence, though she did not speak 
rudely, “ nor papa, nor any one.” 

“ I admit that,” returned Mrs. Roden, sipping her tea. 
“ I liked Miss Cardan very much, but there were always 
some things about her I did not approve.” 

“ What things, mamma?” asked May. 

Enid was silent. 

“You always want to know everything from A to Z, 
May,” remarked her mother. 

She was one of that numerous class of persons who 
always make discoveries, “ after the event;” who thought 
there was something queer about so-and-so, when some one 
else had found him out; who never did quite like such- 
and-such, when she was discovered to be guilty of some 
grave fault. 

These persons do not like being brought to book, inas- 
much as, in most cases, they have no definite indictment 
to prefer; and though not consciously untruthful, are, in 
effect, striving after a cheaply earned repute for unusual 
penetration by uttering generalities. 

May perfecly well knew her mother’s foible, but she was 
wicked enough to reply: 

“ You never said anything against her, mamma, except 
that she had very little faith in human nature.” 

“ And surely,” said Mrs. Roden, catching at the plank 
thus stretched out to her, “ that is not a nice feature in k, 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


21 


young a woman. It looks as if she had been accustomed 
to mix with a bad set of people, and judged every one by 
them.” 

“ You might say the same of Vere Lorraine, mamma,” 
interposed Enid. 

“ Hardly, my dear. Lorraine is double Miss Carolan’s 
age — which makes all the difference.” 

And here mamma decidedly scored. 

May laughed. 

“ How ridiculous it seems,” said she, “ to talk of Lor- 
raine being forty! I never can get it into my head that he 
is more than thirty. Fancy his remaining single all this 
time!” 

“ Some early disappointment, perhaps,” observed Enid, 
raising a small hand-screen to shelter her face from the 
fire, but her cheek flushed a little. 

“Romantic Enid!” said May, handing up her cup for 
some more tea. “You ought to be a novelist. I believe 
you are responsible for mamma’s notion about a fugitive 
lover of Beryl Carolan’s.” 

“I am sure,” said Enid, earnestly, “ I never meant to 
imply that Beryl was anything than above reproach — mor- 
ally, I mean.” 

“ I know you didn’t, Enid; but you must allow when 
you. come to think of it — one doesn’t at the time — that 
Beryl never told us anything about herself; her belongings, 
and all that. She had traveled pretty well all over the 
world, and mixed with very swell people; but all that is 
outside. We don’t know now who she is, what her people 
are, whether she was born in England or abroad. And do 
you remember the private theatricals, when she taught us 
the minuet, and our stage-manager, who, you know, had 
been a ballet-master, said she must have learned dancing 
and ballet action professionally?” 

“Your tongue goes too fast, May,” said her sister, 
rather coldly. “ I remember all that, but I don’t see the 
particular use of recalling it. It is ridiculous to suppose 
that Beryl had ever been a dancer.” 

“ One can not say what she might have been,” said Mrs. 
Roden. “ I recall what Mr. Stalling said on that occa- 
sion, and that Miss Carolan refused to act. She probably 
felt that she would too clearly prove herself professional.” 

“ Suppose she had acted?” exclaimed May, anxious to 


22 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


redeem her indiscretion about the dancing. “ All sorts of 
swells go on the stage in these days.” 

“ But they don’t learn ballet-dancing,” said Mrs. Roden. 

“ No,” retorted her daughter; “ more’s the pity. They 
don’t learn anything, and are only professional because 
they’re well paid for doing their work very badly.” 

A knock at the hall door followed immediately on this 
sally, and diverted the current of thought from Beryl 
Carolan’s possible antecedents to the present. 

“ It’s papa!” said Enid; quickly adding, under her 
breath: “ I hope Mr. Lorraine has declined to hold a 
brief!” 

A heavy step came up the stairs, the drawing-room door 
was opened, and there entered a tall, stout, full-faced man 
with bushy whiskers, and a type of a face one would recog- 
nize anywhere as belonging to a member of parliament. 
Mr. Roden looked a little flushed, a good deal annoyed, 
and walked straight up to the hearth — May rising as he 
approached — planting himself on the rug after the manner 
so dear to Englishmen, with his back to the blaze, and his 
ample person shutting it off from every one else. 

“ Well, Sydney?” said his wife, anxiously. 

Enid’s heart beat hopefully. 

“ Well, dear,” said Mr. Roden, “ Vere Lorraine declines 
to hold a leading brief for the prosecution.” 

“ Declines!” exclaimed his wife; “ you asked him as a 
courtesy, but you might have sent him a brief — ” 

“ As women .usually do,” said Mr. Roden, interrupting 
in his turn, “ you jump to conclusions. Lorraine declined 
my brief simply because Miss Carolan’s solicitor this morn- 
ing retained him for the defense.” 

There was a trio of “ Oh’s!” Enid clasped her hands 
in her lap, at once relieved and vexed; relieved she well 
knew why; Yere Lorraine’s persuasive eloquence would 
not be employed against the woman who had so captivated 
Enid’s affections; but the vexation the girl could not have 
defined; she was hardly conscious of its existence. 

Mrs. Roden spoke first. 

“Was it Miss Oarolan’s idea to retain Lorraine, Syd- 
ney?” 

“ I don’t know— very likely; but Lorraine did not say 
so. I can’t admire her good taste,” added Mr. Roden, 
“ in selecting a friend of the family to defend her.” 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


23 


“ But he’s a comparatively recent friend, papa,” inter- 
posed May; “ and perhaps the only man she knew of, 
being, as she is, a foreigner.” 

“Considering Lorraine’s fees,” remarked Mrs. Roden, 
rather dryly, “ one would think Beryl Carolan can be in 
no need of money.” 

“ Well, mamma,” exclaimed May, “ it could not have 
been poverty that made her take the diamonds — if she did 
take them. Look how perfectly she always dressed, and 
the exquisite jewels she had.” 

“ Perhaps acquired in the same way,” said Mr. Roden, 
grimly. “ I suppose Lorraine will make a point of her 
not being in need of money. As for Beryl Carolan, she 
knew what she was about, going to Vere Lorraine; she’s 
an adventuress — no doubt about that; she heard you all — 
you girls especially — talk about Lorraine, and that he was 
a very handsome fellow, unmarried, and rich, and she 
means to try and hook him.” 

The heat of that fire must have been intermittent, for it 
was once more necessary for Enid to raise the screen before 
her face. She was conscious now of that feeling of vexa- 
tion and of its cause. She did not like that Beryl Carolan 
should be thrown in Lorraine’s way, under circumstances, 
too, calculated to arouse his sympathy; and he was a man 
always tender and compassionate toward women. 

Poor Enid ! was she allowing her head to run too much 
on thoughts of the handsome advocate? 

Mrs. Roden took up her husband rather irritably, glanc- 
ing at Enid. 

“ Really, Sydney, how you do run on! If I had made 
such a speech you would have told me a woman never can 
distinguish between private and professional intercourse, 
and counsel would have enough to do if they fell in love 
with every pretty client.” 

“ I should do no such thing,” retorted her husband — 
though he probably would — “ not if you were talking of 
this particular case. Beryl Carolan is a pretty woman ; 
she has beauty enough to turn the head of any man, with- 
out taking any trouble either; and a man doesn’t leave his 
nature behind him, though he may put another over it, 
when he goes into his chambers or his office.” 

Certainly Mr. Roden was right, and his listeners felt that 
he was; but this did not make bis remarks any the more 


24 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

palatable; May resented them principally on Beryl's 
account. 

“I don’t believe Beryl’s that sort of girl,” she said; 
“ we never saw anything to make us think so.” 

“ We saw just as much as she chose us to see,” said Mr. 
Roden. “ Don’t talk nonsense, May — what can you 
know — at your age! Give me a cup of tea, Enid. Any- 
how, the thing can’t be helped; I shall leave it to Boscombe 
to choose his leader. I suppose Lorraine will get the girl 
off, and juries always are tomfools when a good-looking 
woman’s in the dock.” 

Of course Mr. Roden exempted himself from the tom- 
fools, though it was just possible that, were he in the jury- 
box, he would have been no more strictly impartial than 
his brethren — always supposing the disordering magnetism 
of female beauty in the dock. 

No one dared, however, to hint this. 

So Mr. Roden prosed away, his wife bearing all the 
burden of boredom, as it is the mission of wives to do, 
while Enid sat silent and thought her own thoughts, and 
May sought solace in the last new “ shilling dreadful.” 

The dinner-bell came in as a reprieve to the three 
women, and they retired with unusual alacrity to dress. 

“ Thank goodness!” said flippant May, as she ran up- 
stairs. “ No more diamonds till dinner-time; but if they 
don’t come in with the soup, they’ll make their appearance 
with the fish.” 

And they did. 


CHAPTER IV. 

WILL THE MYSTERY EVER BE SOLVED ? 

Locd laughter, the clinking of the glasses, a charivari 
of men’s voices— these are what the policeman on his beat 
in Grafton . Street, Mayfair, heard between twelve and 
three one night, or early morning. He knew from whence 
they proceeded; he heard them often from the same quar- 
ter. 

You would have thought there were a dozen men to 
make such a clatter; but there were only five, including 
the host, enjoying a petit so?! per in the chambers of Mr. 
Herbert Gresham — fashionable man about town, who was 
always in debt, and yet always seemed to have plenty of 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


25 


money; who spent his days in killing time — he rose about 
noon, but, to make things even, rarely retired before three 
a. m. — and not a few of his nights at gambling-clubs; who, 
in fact, might have been described in the terms once applied 
by a seaman to Gilbert Gurney, the hero of a now forgotten 
novel published under that name: “ A useless, purposeless 
wretch living without an object.” 

He sat at the head of his well-furnished table, a fair, 
good-looking man of six- or seven -an d-thirty, bearing the 
hall-mark which late hours and a dissolute life set on their 
victims; and the men around him were more or less of his 
own type, save one, the painter, Ulric llazlemere. 

He was not behind-hand in the enjoyment of the hour; 
but he alone drank sparingly, and when “ chaffed ” for so 
doing, had a ready answer for the jester. 

“Now then, Rowpliffe,” cried Gresham, to his right- 
hand guest, “ fill up— fill up, all; I’m going to propose a 
toast!” 

The glasses were filled, and somebody cried: 

“ Her full name, mind, Gresh — no initials.” 

“ No need for ’em, my son,” returned the host, flushed 
with wine, and though sober according to “ bachelor sup- 
per ” canons, scarcely to be so described from a more 
strict standpoint — “ no need — I drink to the acquittal to- 
morrow of Lilian Beryl Carolan!” 

“ Hurrah! hurrah!” echoed round the table, and glasses 
were clinked and emptied amid an uproar that would have 
done credit to an Oxford supper-party at the Clarendon. 

Eowcliffe was the first to make an intelligible remark. 

“ But acquittal’s a foregone conclusion, eh, Gresh?” 

“ Ought to be with her beauty and my cousin Lor- 
raine’s silver tongue.” 

“ Is she such a beauty?” asked a young man at the end 
of the table. 

“ Is she not ?” asked Gresham, staring. “ You clearly 
haven’t seen her, dear boy.” 

“ No, I haven’t, and I don’t know much about her, ex- 
cept hearing of this case. You forget I’m only just home 
from the Rockies.” 

“Oh! ay, grizzly hunting and. all that sort of thing. 
Well, it’s just this way. In the May of this year,” 
Gresham continued, as if reading out of a book, all the 
Qthm laughing, “ Ml d unite Harwood took a house in 


26 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


Hanover Street; Mr. Harwood, elderly, lame, spends lots 
of time on a sofa; his niece, Beryl Carolan, simply divine. 
Harwood certainly a gentleman; Miss Carolan certainly 
4 born to the purple. ’ They come from abroad — have a 
few introductions. Harwood starts in grand style, house 
inimitable, girl dresses like a picture; they keep a 
brougham and a pony-carriage — she drives like Diana; 
they entertain — the most perfect petits diners, at homes, 
soirees. She plays, sings — talks with anybody in his or 
her own language, etc. Society raves about her; she is 
courted, fussed over — till the collapse comes — and, as they 
say on the stage after a long story, 4 the rest you know . 5 ” 

“H’m! Accepted, after all, very much on their own 
showing,” observed the questioner. 

Gresham shrugged his shoulders. 

44 People aren't so particular as tney used to be, Stan- 
dish. Of course, Act II. will be either Bohemia or flit- 
ting — the former, I hope.” 

But Hazlemere’s voice did not join in the chorus of 
44 same here!” He observed, when there was a momentary 
silence: 

44 Yes, I suppose theft is the unpardonable sin.” 

44 Of course,” said Gresham, 44 it's vulgar — there's no 
getting over that — even theft like this, to the tune of 
some forty thousand pounds. Are you going in for 4 high- 
falutin,’ Hazlemere?” 

The painter laughed. 

44 Not I,” he said ; 44 but, by Jove!” he replied, thought- 
fully, 44 I’d like to get at the bottom of that mystery.” 

44 The Great Diamond Robbery!” cried Rowcliffe, who 
had written comedies which were failures. 44 Startling 
sensational drama in five acts. Act I. The robbery. 
Act II. Innocence under a cloud. Act III. Innocence in 
outer darkness. Act IY. Innocence looking up a bit. 
Act V. Innocence triumphant — the villain discovered — 
4 my own!’ 4 my adored!* — a scream — a rush — lovers 
embrace — villain secured in darbies— all serene! Cur- 
tain!” 

44 But as it is real life,” said Hazlemere, when the shouts 
of laughter provoked by Rowciiffe’s 44 bill of the play ” 
had subsided, 44 there will probably be no denouement. 
The Great Diamond Robbery will sink into the limbo of 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 27 

forgetfulness, and the villain will enjoy the proceeds of his 
achievement unrestrained by darbies.” 

Was Hazlemere a true prophet? Would the mystery of 
this inexplicable crime remain always a mystery — to exer- 
cise the Grevilles of a future generation as the robbery of 
the queen’s necklace exercised the chroniclers of a past 
day? 

Was Lilian Beryl Carolan sinner or victim — or both? 


CHAPTER V. 

THE EVIDENCE AGAINST BERYL CAROLAN. 

Society had been duped by a beautiful adventuress, and 
was exceedingly indignant thereat. The men who had 
placed their hands and names at the disposal of Beryl 
Carolan felt that her refusal, galling at the time, had pro- 
cured them a lucky escape. How shameful it was for 
“ such women ” to foist themselves upon an immaculate 
and unsuspicious world! for there could be no doubt of the 
guilt of the accused; it was clearly understood a week 
before the trial came on that her defense was simply nega- 
tive. She would call no witnesses, attempt no proof of 
innocence, except challenging the prosecution to prove her 
guilt. So society treats its favorites; and there were 
necessarily not a few women who rejoiced in the “ blotting 
out 99 of a too successful rival. 

The police were, naturally enough, convinced that Miss 
Carolan had an accomplice; but all their best efforts were 
fruitless in discovering that individual, though large 
rewards were offered by the Rodens for the arrest of any 
one concerned in the robbery; nor could the faintest trace 
of the missing jewels be found. 

<£ It’s as neat a plant as ever I had to deal with,” said 
one well-known detective, “ and those who are in it are no 
new hands. Miss Carolan must have got rid of the jewels 
the very night she stole ’em — the very hour, I should say. 
It wasn’t the first thing of the kind she’d done, or helped 
in, because it’s my opinion that she didn’t do it herself; 
only let in the actual thief, and made things smooth for 
him generally.” 

In the course of their inquiries the police tried to find 
out something of the antecedents of the accused, which 


28 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


would, in all probability, throw light on the present; but 
here again they were baffled. 

They discovered certain facts, but those facts were not 
to her" detriment; but beyond a given point neither they 
nor sundry busybodies who tried to rake up the annals of 
the past for their own delectation, or to furnish gossip to 
the papers, were able to go. Beryl Carolan was first heard 
of in Vienna, where she and her uncle were living in good 
style, and keeping open house, their guests being princi- 
pally of the artistic professions. There was a rumor, which 
could not be substantiated, that Beryl had acted and 
danced in Italian theaters; but she was clearly not of the 
class from which dancers are drawn; next, uncle and niece 
were in Paris, then at Berlin, lastly in Madrid, and from 
Madrid they came to London; but everywhere they were 
“ in society,” nowhere did they appear as adventurers, nor 
was there a breath against the fame of the girl, whose rare 
beauty made her an object of admiration and homage. 

Scotland Yard shook its head and was sorely puzzled, 
and the world wagged its ceaseless tongue over the case; 
and the “ swells,” male and female, strove their hardest 
to obtain privileged seats in court for the day of the trial. 

Vere Lorraine had only seen his client once again since 
his first interview with her, and then in the presence of 
her solicitor, Mr. Green well; but he had never felt so much 
personal anxiety for success as he felt in this case, not even 
in some cases in which he knew his client to be iunocent; 
and he knew that this very anxiety was born of his deep in- 
terest in the matter, for under ordinary conditions he would 
have been perfectly confident, and was really confident now. 

“You think there can not be a doubt of a verdict in our 
favor?” asked Mr. Green well, the evening before the trial. 

“Not a. doubt,” returned Lorraine; “and you see, as 
we call no witnesses, I have the advantage of the reply.” 

“ That’s a great advantage,” said Mr. Green well; 
“ though I don’t think Dixon’s reply could injure the 
effect you will produce. I wish I could feel as sure of our 
client’s innocence as of her acquittal. What is your 
opinion, sir?” 

He had never asked that question before. Lorraine be- 
trayed not the slightest emotion of any kind. 

“ If I tell you/’ he said, “ you will smile, maybe, and 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


29 


think that Miss Cardan’s beauty has run away with my 
judgment.” 

“ No, sir; your brain is too well balanced for that.” 

“ Thank you. I think, then, that there is a story 
behind this story — that my client is acting under compul- 
sion.” 

44 But that still she is a thief?” 

44 No,” said Lorraine, quietly; 44 I don't believe she is.” 

“ H’m! You mean that she is hiding the guilt of some 
one who is?” 

44 Possibly,” replied Lorraine, more reservedly. 

44 But she must have betrayed the secret of the place 
where the jewels were kejd?” 

44 That does not follow. Nor — if she is under compul- 
sion — is it that of a strong will ruling a weak one. Miss 
Cardan has a will that no one could overrule; she is a 
great deal more than a beautiful woman — she is a woman 
of very remarkable character.” 

44 Don’t take to’ studying it, sir,” said the solicitor, 
smiling now, and shaking his head. 

44 1 am too busy for that, Mr. Green well,” returned 
Lorraine; but when he was alone again, he said to himself: 

44 What will become of her after this trial? Will she 
remain here and sink into a lower social sphere — that is 
inevitable — or go abroad, and pass beyond my ken — out of 
sight?” 

He stopped, biting his lip hard, and turned abruptly to 
some work that lay waiting for him. He felt instinctively 
that it was best not to think just now about his beautiful 
client, since he could not do so in a strictly professional 
manner. 

The brougham that bore Beryl Carolan and her solicitor 
to the Central Criminal Court the next morning had to 
make its way through a large crowd waiting to see what 
they could of those concerned in the trial, arid to hear the 
first news of the proceedings. 

44 Will you let me call for you, Mr. Greenwell?” Beryl 
had said to her solicitor; 44 1 should be pleased to do so in 
any case, and I have no one to go with. My uncle is infirm, 
and of course I have no friends now.” 

She said it, not bitterly, but in the most matter-of- 
course manner; yet there was an almost terrible pathos in 
the words and iii the facts that lay behind them. 


30 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


Not one friend to stand by her in her hour of humiliation 
had the girl who had been courted, and flattered, and 
made much of, whose love men had sought, whose gifts of 
mind and person women had envied and admired. 

But no one would care to be seen with her now; her 
crime was a vulgar crime; and vice may be condoned, but 
vulgarity is the unpardonable sin. 

So the prisoner and her solicitor drove up together, and 
entered the crowded court amid a buzz of excitement 
evoked by the former. 

For just a moment the girl felt staggered, and a faiij£ 
color crossed her pale cheek: 

“ All the court around, and walls, and roofs, 

And all the earth and air, were full of eyes, 

Eyes! — eyes!” 

But the anguish passed quickly — the flush faded into 
almost deathly whiteness, and she walked steadily to the 
dock, and took her place, her eyes drooping a little, but 
not downcast. 

She would wait awhile before she sought for faces that 
she knew; it might unnerve her now. Her heart was 
throbbing so heavily, and she must not fail. If Vere 
Lorraine had been here, the ordeal might have tried her 
less. 

But he came in almost the minute after she had entered 
the dock. For a second their eyes met. 

“ Fear nothing!” his look said; and hers answered, “ I 
have no fear — none!” 

Then Lorraine turned to speak to his junior, and Beryl 
let her gaze travel over the sea of faces. 

There were the Rodens — all together — father, mother, 
Enid, and May. There were two or three of the servants 
at Rodenhurst, who had been subpoenaed; and there, on 
the bench and scattered over the court, were many whom 
Beryl knew well. Men she had danced and flirted with; 
women by whose sides she had sat in their carriages on the 
Row, chatted with them at balls or at Christie’s. They 
seemed to belong to another world now; the men she 
might meet again, but the women — 

She looked once again at Enid ; she thought that the girl 
had been weeping. 

“ Fancy her really loving me!” said Beryl to herself. 
“ It seems so strange.” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


31 


Judge and jury took their places. 

There was a certain amount of bustle, and rustling of 
briefs, and talk, and then silence settled over the throng, 
and Mr. Dixon, a tall, stout man, quite a curious anti- 
thesis in every way to handsome, aristocratic Yere Lorraine, 
rose to open the case for the prosecution. 

Miss Lilian Beryl Carolan was, he said, a young lady of, 
he believed, foreign birth and extraction; at any rate, 
partly so. She had lived a great deal abroad — a wander- 
ing life, and owing to her uncle’s state of health, a very 
independent life. She appeared to have moved sometimes 
in aristocratic circles; at others to have mixed with the 
more Bohemian element. 

Every one knew what artistic society in Vienna was. 
(Probably not a third of those in court did know — Mr. 
Dixon among them.) Miss Carolan’s personal charms, 
and artistic and other gifts, made her a great favorite, and 
wherever she was she reigned the queen of an admiring 
circle. She and her uncle came to London, where the 
same adulation followed her, and she was received with 
open arms by a society not so strict as it should be in de- 
manding credentials from those who seek its suffrages. 

Nothing, after all, was known of Miss Carolan’s remoter 
antecedents; who, and what she was, how those means were 
acquired which enabled her to keep up with the style of 
things prevalent in Mayfair, and preside at. reunions in 
Hanover Street which became famous. Perhaps society 
was to blame; but it could not be denied that Miss Carolan 
bore upon her no apparent stamp of the adventuress. She 
was a beautiful, cultivated, and most fascinating woman, 
and she played her cards with consummate skill. 

Mr. Dixon then went on to describe how the Rodens 
first met Beryl Carolan, and were attracted by her— Miss 
Roden especially. How Miss Carolan “ so worked it as to 
obtain an invitation to Rodenhurst,” and how, when 
there, she “ wormed ” from Enid Roden the secret of the 
music-room. 

The Roden diamonds had been famous for generations; 
some of them unique, and though valued at forty thou- 
sand pounds, three times that sum could not compensate 
the family for their loss, since several of them were heir- 
looms. 

Counsel then commented strongly upon the suspicious 


3 2 SINKER OR VICTIM? 

circumstances surrounding the disappearance of the 
jewels; Miss Cardan's presence late at night near the 
music-room, her refusal either to admit or deny anything. 
One would expect an innocent woman to meet such a 
charge with amazement and indignation; instead of which 
she received it with a kind of stony recklessness, and her 
readiness to submit to her apartments being searched sim- 
ply proved that she had taken good care to get rid of the 
jewels, being aided, without doubt, by an accomplice, 
though every effort to find that accomplice had failed. 

Beryl listened to this speech attentively, though she did 
not seem to give much heed to it, and without any change 
of countenance, even while Mr. Dixon was doing his best 
to discount her career, and produce the impression that it 
was, in truth, though not in appearance, the career of an 
adventuress. 

Lorraine took a few notes, but he had a singularly clear 
and retentive memory, and would often pick up all the 
points of an opponent's speech without having made a 
single note. 

The first witness was Enid Roden. 

She rose trembling to enter the box, flushing scarlet, 
then turning very white. 

Poor Enid! Her hands shook as they held the book, 
and it was some minutes before she ventured to raise her 
eyes. 

Mr. Dixon’s first questions only related to the manner in 
which the Rodens met Beryl Carol an, her being asked 
down to Rodenhurst, etc. He proceeded: 

4 4 You became, I believe, greatly attached to Miss Caro- 
lan?" 

44 Yes." 

44 You were very much with her, and talked confiden- 
tially to her — as young ladies will?" 

44 Yes." 

44 And she encouraged your confidence, no doubt?" 

44 1 can not say that; she was always kind and sympa- 
' thetic; but I don't think she ever sought % my confidence." 

44 Or gave any in return?" 

44 No; she was very reserved about herself." 

44 After she had stayed a month in the house with you. 
you know no more ttbout her than at fbe beginning?" 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


33 


“ She was asked originally for a fortnight's stay, was 
she not?" 

“ Yes." 

“ At whose request was the time extended?" 

“ At mine; my skter joining in the request. My mother, 
too, wished to have her stay." 

“ Give us your account of this,- please?" 

“ Two days before she was to leave I spoke to my 
mother. Miss Carolan was not in the room; my sister was. 
My mother said she would be delighted to keep Miss Caro- 
lan another fortnight, and she herself gave the invitation." 

Vere Lorraine smiled secretly. Mr. Dixon had scored a 
point here for the defense. 

That gentleman quitted his ground and passed on to the 
jewels. 

“ The diamonds were kept in a cabinet in the music- 
room. Will you describe that cabinet?" 

“ It was a cinque-cento Italian cabinet, very massive, of 
ebony and silver. Two keys were- required to open it, and 
the locks were different; no key not made for them would 
open them. The cabinet was always supposed to contain 
ancient manuscripts and music, and there were some 
in it." 

* “ The music-room was a good deal used?" 

“ Oh, yes." 

“ How many people knew where the diamonds were 
kept?" 

“ Only the family — not even my mother’s maid." 

“ Who had the keys?" 

“ My mother. She always wore them hung round her 
neck." 

“ The servants are all trustworthy?" 

“ They have all been years with us." 

i: Were you under any obligation to keep this secret — 
any vow, for example?" 

“ No; it was thought safest that no one but the family 
should know where the diamonds were kept. My father 
put them in the cabinet when he was first married." 

“ Was their hiding-place kept secret, then?" 

“ I don’t know." 

“ When was it you told the prisoner where the jewels 
were kept?" 

“ Three days before they were stolen— one night it was." 

2 


34 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


“ Relate the circumstances to the Court, please.’’ 

44 We had been out to a dance, and went to Miss Caro- 
lan’s dressing-room. She was alone. I admired some of 
the jewels she had worn, and then I said something about 
the diamonds — I forget what. She did not seem to notice 
much. I said, 4 1 want to show you the necklace.’ I had 
the keys on me then — round my neck. I had to put away 
a brooch my mother had been wearing. I went out and 
fetched the necklace, and Miss Carolan said it was very 
beautiful, and told me to take it back to my mother. 
Then I said it wasn’t kept in mamma’s room, but in that 
lovely old cabinet in the music-room.” 

44 Did Miss Carolan make a remark?” 

44 Yes; she laughed, and said, 4 What an odd place to 
keep jewels!’ ” 

44 Had she noticed the cabinet?” 

44 Yes, when she first came. She admired it very much.” 

44 Was anything more said about the jewels that night?” 

Enid colored painfully. 

44 Yes; I asked Miss Carolan not to tell any one what I 
had said about the cabinet. She said, 4 Was it a secret, 
then? Oh, Enid, you should not have told me!’ She 
promised not to say anything.” 

The witness went on, in answer to questions: 

The night of the robbery they had all been out to a 
party. Mrs. Roden wore a pendant belonging to the 
diamond set, which was not put away that night. The 
music-room was in the opposite wing to Miss Carolan’s 
apartments; it was near her (witness’s) room. About half 
past one she (witness) was going to her room from her 
sister’s, when she met Miss Carolan in the corridor, close to 
the music-room. Witness exclaimed, 44 Beryl!” in aston- 
ishment. Prisoner wore a loose wrapper. She started on 
seeing witness, but did not seem much surprised. Witness 
said, 44 Were you coming to my room?” and the prisoner 
replied, 44 No; good-night, Enid,” and turned away. 
Witness thought this behavior strange, but had no sus- 
picion. She heard no sound. 

Was Enid going to escape cross-examination? 

No; Vere Lorraine rose. 

44 Miss Roden,” said the courtly advocate, 44 1 shall not 
keep you long, but there are a few questions I must ask 
you,” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


35 


Enid bowed, coloring a little. 

She did not mind being cross-examined by Vere Lorraine, 
and she would be only too glad if anything was elicited 
from her which would tell in Beryl's favor. 

“ When the original term of Miss Carolan's visit was 
drawing to a close," began Lorraine, “ was anything said 
on the subject between you and the prisoner?" 

“ No; not a word." 

“ Your request was entirely spontaneous?" 

“Entirely. We were all — my sister and I especially — 
very fond of her, and we wanted her to stay." 

“ Did Miss Carolan ever speak to you about the famous 
diamonds — at any time, 1 mean?" 

“ Never. I remember saying something about them to 
her once in a London ball-room, and she replied, * Oh, yes; 
some one asked me if I had ever heard of the Roden dia- 
monds; and I never had until then.' " 

“ Was it your impression that she in any way 6 fished ' 
for an invitation to Rodenhurst?' 

“ She certainly did not. My mother suggested asking 
her; and when she did ask her. Miss Carolan at first hesi- 
tated, and thought she was engaged. Then she looked in 
her pocket-book, and found her engagement was for the 
previous week." 

“ When Miss Carolan admired the cabinet did she ask 
any questions?" 

“ No. She said at once it was a cinque-cento, and knew 
much more about it than I did. She did not ask if any- 
thing was kept in it." 

“ Was she often in the music-room — alone or other- 
wise?" 

“ Never alone, I should think; often with me and others. 
She sung splendidly, and of course every one liked to hear 
her." 

“ You were entertaining guests all the time of Miss Caro- 
lan’s stay?" 

“Up till the last week — a succession of visitors. I have 
the visitors' book with me." 

It was handed up, and Lorraine glanced at it, but asked 
no questions upon it. 

“ Now, Miss Roden, the night you told the prisoner 
about the diamonds being kept in the cinque-cento cabinet, 
did she in any way lead up to the subject?" 


36 


Sinner or victim? 


“ No; it was just as I said before.” 

“ She had a quantity of handsome jewelry, had she not?” 

“ Yes; lovely out-of-the-way things.” 

“ That will do, thank you.” 

May followed her sister. She described going to the 
cabinet the next morning about ten o’clock to put away 
the pendant, and finding that it had been broken open, 
and the diamonds stolen. She went at once to her parents, 
and her sister, who was present, almost fainted. She was 
asked to explain her agitation, and then related what she 
had seen, and that she had told the prisoner where the 
jewels were kept. Witness went with her father to the 
prisoner’s apartments; she had a suite — sitting-room, 
dressing-room, and bedroom. Prisoner admitted them 
herself, and did not seem surprised, which struck them 
both. Mr. Roden was very angry; but he said he had 
come to ask an explanation. Prisoner said: “ What 
about?” and Mr. Roden answered: “ The diamonds — they 
are stolen!” Prisoner said, quietly: “ And you think I 
stole them? Well, you can search if you like.” 

“ She did not show any astonishment on hearing that 
the jewels were gone?” 

“ No; my father said: ‘Great Heaven! you can not 
mean that you are guilty!’ And Miss Carolan turned away 
and replied: c Do what you like. I neither confess nor 
deny.’ She threw her keys down on the table, and left 
the room. The police were sent for and the rooms thor- 
oughly searched; but nothing was found that did not 
belong to Miss Carolan. 

Lorraine did not cross-examine this witness, nor the 
next, an expert, who deposed that the cabinet had been 
opened in a most accomplished manner. It would be 
most difficult to deal with, the two locks being utterly 
dissimilar, and most peculiarly made; they would have 
baffled an ordinary burglar; the operator must have been 
a past-master in the art, and have employed very fine tools. 

At this stage the court adjourned for luncheon. 


CHAPTER YI. 

TH E DEFENSE. 

After luncheon Mr. Roden was called into the witness- 
box, and Lorraine’s junior whispered: 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


37 


“ Shall you cross-examine him?” 

“ On one or two points — assuredly,” was the reply. 

Sydney Roden corroborated his daughter May’s evidence, 
and added that the prisoner appeared to him to “ put on 
a mask of callousness.” The house was searched through- 
out, but no clew to the mystery was discovered. There 
were no footmarks outside; the music-room window was 
high, and there was a flower-bed beneath it; the mold was 
damp, as it had rained early in the evening. The window 
could only be reached by a ladder. There were no signs 
anywhere of an entrance having been made into the house. 
He always went over the house himself at night and saw to 
bolts and bars. 

Lorraine rose again to cross-examine. 

“ Mr. Roden, how long have the diamonds been kept in 
the cabinet?” 

“ For twenty-five years — ever since I was married.” 

(i Where were they kept formerly?” 

“ In my dressing-room; but my wife thought this 
unsafe, and I placed them in the cabinet.” 

“ Did any one besides your wife know of their being in 
this place?” 

“ My valet, since dead.” 

“ Indeed! your valet knew it? Any one else?” 

‘ 6 My younger brother,” replied the witness, with a 
touch of hesitation in his manner. 

c ‘ He is not living, I believe? He died abroad?” 

“ Yes; about fifteen years ago.” 

“ Now, Mr. Roden, I am sorry to have to ask this ques- 
tion: Was not your brother Anthony what is called wild — 
a free drinker, for one thing?” 

“ I can not deny that.” 

“ A man who spent much time among betting- men and 
the like, and finally went abroad under not very creditable 
circumstances?” 

“ Yes, that is so.” 

“ Is it not just possible, Mr. Roden, that a man of this 
description may have betrayed to one — or to any number — 
of his loose companions where these jewels were kept — either 
willfully, or when not sober?” 

“ Yes, he might, certainly. But my brother, though a 
free drinker, was not a drunkard.” 


38 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Bat he was, at any rate, a man of not much prin- 
ciple — not a safe custodian for a secret ?” 

“ I allow that. The secret was not told to him — he 
guessed it. ’ 9 

Again Lorraine had scored. Though the facts he had 
elicited might only the more strongly mark the contention 
that Beryl had an accomplice, they decidedly discounted 
the assumption of the prosecution, that the prisoner alone 
knew the secret, and was, therefore, of necessity, a 
primary actor in the robbery. 

Beryl’s counsel did not ask Mr. Koden any more ques- 
tions, nor did he cross-examine two or three servants who 
were examined, and whose evidence was of no sort of value 
one way or the other. Mrs. Roden’s evidence was simply 
corroborative; but Mr. Dixon went out of his way to ask 
her some questions tending, in his opinion, to injure the 
prisoner’s cause with the jury. 

“ You had, I believe,” he said, “ some private theatricals 
while the prisoner was staying with you, under professional 
management?” 

“ Yes. We played the 4 School for Scandal ’ and the 
‘ Country Girl.’ ” 

“ And Miss Carolan taught the minuet in the former to 
those who were to dance it?” 

“ She did.” 

“ The stage-manager was present at some of the re- 
hearsals, and made a remark about the prisoner’s teaching 
and dancing?” 

“ Yes. He said she must have been a professional; no 
amateur could dance it as she did.” 

“ Did she take any part in the acting?” 

“No; we wished her to, but she refused. But she 
coached my two daughters, and ‘ made them up ’ on the 
night.” 

“ She seemed perfectly au fait with all these things?” 

“ I was told so. I did not see much of it. The manager 
said he was sure she had been on the stage. I never asked 
her.” 

“ You thought it would be an insulting question?” 

“ Well, I don’t know; it might be so, certainly.” 

“ What have these questions to do with the case?” whis- 
pered Lorraine’s junior. 

The other smiled. 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 30 

“ A good deal — from our point of view. Let him run 
his tether till the judge stops him.” 

Which his lordship did almost immediately. 

“ Really, Mr. Dixon,” he said, “ I can not see how your 
case is affected by such questions. They are a needless 
waste of public time.” 

Mr. Dixon bowed, submitted, and dismissed his witness, 
who was not cross-examined by the prisoner’s counsel. 

The case for the prosecution was now closed, and there 
was a breathless pause, an intense hush of expectancy. 
Vere Lorraine looked at his client. She stood erect, with 
her violet eyes drooping a little; her creamy skin was per- 
fectly colorless, but she was self-possessed, outwardly calm. 
How wonderfully beautiful she was! How perilously beau- 
tiful for the success of the prosecution! Her features and 
expression somehow brought vividly to Lorraine’s mind 
Delaroche’s exquisite “ Beatrice Oenci. ” His heart burned 
within him as he rose. Were this girl ten times guilty, he 
could feel only bitterest sorrow for her; he could not con- 
demn her. 

Lorraine, like all practiced orators, glanced over his 
audience before he began to speak. He knew — what gifted 
speaker does not know? — that he could chain and entrance 
them. His lack of personal vanity made him unaware of 
the influence of his handsome countenance and striking 
presence. 

“ How the fair aspect, ere a sound was heard, 

Prepared the way for the melodious word!” 

So for a moment’s pause; and then he addressed himself 
to the jury, and the silvery voice, not loud, but clear as a 
bell, and finely inflected with every change of mood, filled 
the crowded court, and would have charmed all hearers 
even if the subject-matter had not been of deep interest. 

But in this he was also fortunate; he was pleading the 
cause of a woman, young, friendless, and most beautiful, 
and his eloquence had never seemed more brilliant and 
persuasive than it did to-day. 

Yet Vere Lorraine’s style was always pure and noble, 
absolutely free from the mannerisms and clap-trap which 
mar so much good speaking at the common-law bar. 

Perhaps he felt that he stood in no need of such adven- 
titious aids; certainly he never employed them; and yet no 
man at the bar could so influence a jury. 


40 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 

He began by admitting that he had no witnesses; it was 
one of those cases in which a defendant seldom has wit- 
nesses, but relies upon the weakness of the prosecution; 
and in this case the prosecution utterly broke down in 
attempting to fasten the guilt of robbery upon Miss Beryl 
Oarolan. 

Their evidence was entirely founded on assumption; 
nothing was proved, and all the surrounding circumstances 
were in favor of the prisoner’s innocence. 

It was shown that though she had heard of the 44 Roden 
diamonds/’ she did nothing to obtain an invitation to 
Rodenhurst, and the request to prolong her stay was 
equally shown to have come spontaneously from her enter- 
tainers. 

Though she was nearly a month in the house, she never 
spoke of the diamonds — yet she might easily have found out 
where they were kept long before by 44 pumping ” Miss 
Roden in a manner which that young lady would never 
suspect. 

The cabinet was opened by an expert, but it was most 
unlikely, though it was just possible, that a young girl, 
brought up as Miss Carolan had been, would be an expert 
in the use of burglars’ tools. 

An accomplice was suggested, but there was no proof of 
an accomplice. Doubtless a clever burglar opened that 
safe; some one did it, and stole the diamonds; but where 
was the proof of Miss Oarolan’s complicity? 

She was found near the music-room under suspicious cir- 
cumstances; her conduct on that occasion and throughout 
was suspicious, said the prosecution. 

Well, allow that; but on the other hand, not one stone 
was traced to her possession, not one burglar’s tool or 
article of a suspicious nature. She had got rid of them, but 
how? You can not make a victim, and then build her 
into a wall of assumed circumstances; that is neither law 
nor equity. 

Again, if Miss Cardan’s demeanor was inconsistent with 
innocence, was it consistent with guilt? Assume her to 
have committed this crime; a person capable of such an 
act was not one to shrink from untruth, and she would be 
perfectly aware that the assertion of innocence could be 
safely made. Yet, when an easy and plausible falsehood 
was put into her mouth by Miss Roden, she refused to 


SIHHER OR VICTIM? 41 

avail herself of it. Instead of indignantly denying the 
charge made against her, she declined to speak. To 
account for such conduct, you are again bound to have 
resort to assumptions. 

He (counsel) was not called upon to account for his 
client’s behavior; his duty was to see that she was not con- 
victed without clear and irrefragable proof of her guilt. 

Then the prosecution had made strenuous efforts to dis- 
cover some shady antecedents of the prisoner; but had sig- 
nally failed. She was found moving in good society, 
associating with women of irreproachable life. He scarcely 
knew why his learned brother was anxious to demonstrate 
that Miss Carolan had been an actress and a dancer. If 
he proved these facts — what then? 

He. (Lorraine) knew something of both artistic and 
aristocratic life, and he knew that not a few women in the 
former world compared favorably with not a few in the 
latter. The prisoner was not in need; she was not in debt; 
she was wealthy, and occupied a position which she was 
not likely to risk for the sake of twice the amount at 
which these diamonds were valued. Such collateral con- 
siderations must not be lost sight of, but he (counsel) 
placed his chief reliance on the lack of convicting evidence. 

His peroration was masterly. He made no sentimental 
appeal; he based his demand for a verdict of acquittal 
solely on the grounds of law and equity. The peroration 
was short, terse, and brilliant; a triumph of close argu- 
ment in language picturesque, but utterly free from 
rhetoric, and when the speaker sat down, not only the pub- 
lic, but the bar burst into applause. 

Lorraine, externally calm, whatever his real feelings, 
turned to his junior. 

“ The verdict is ours,” he said. 

And Beryl? For the first time there was a flush in her 
cheek; her heart was throbbing to suffocation. She 
glanced instinctively to Lorraine and met his look — it said, 
“ Acquitted!” and her gaze sunk; there was a mist before 
her eyes, a humming in her ears. 

Mr. Dixon leaned back and folded his arms. 

44 Lorraine has got the case,” he said to his junior. 

At half past three the judge began his summing-up. It 
was fair and impartial, but as the legal minds in court at 


42 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


once saw, in favor of the prisoner. A little before four 
the jury retired to consider their verdict. 

Enid, deeply excited, clung to her sister’s hand. 

“ They will acquit her,” she whispered, “ won’t they?” 

“ Yes — for certain. Didn’t Lorraine speak splendidly?” 

Enid drew a long breath, and nodded; she felt choking. 
How wonderfully Beryl kept her self-control! — though she 
was deathly white, she looked so calm and unconcerned. 

The jury returned after only five minutes’ absence, and 
the clerk asked the usual question. The foreman replied 
at once: 

“We find the prisoner at the bar — not guilty.” 

In the midst of the cheering that followed, and the noise 
made by the ushers in quelling it, Beryl raised her eyes to 
Lorraine’s face with such a flash of light in their blue 
depths as startled him and made his heart leap up with a 
wild bound. The time was yet to come when he under- 
stood that look; but her words were low and broken. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I am very grateful— you 
have saved me from worse than death.’'” . 

He laid his hand for a second on hers, as it rested on the 
edge of the dock. He could not answer her; he could 
command his face just now, but not his voice. He was 
agitated as he had never been in all his professional life 
before; he had no sense of triumph as an advocate; the 
thing was that he had saved Beryl Carolan — saved her from 
the inexpressible horror of a punishment, the more terrible 
in her case in that he felt it was undeserved. 

Did Beryl see, or by the subtle sense which is keener, 
more unerring than sight, perceive that her counsel was 
deeply moved? Her lips quivered for a moment; but she 
turned her face aside, and gave, or seemed to give, her 
attention to the few words spoken by the judge. 

Then all was over, and she was free! free to go out into 
the world with a branded name, a legal acquittal, a moral 
condemnation, yet still free from prison and degrading 
associations and hideous monotony. 

Do you hear the crowd outside cheering?” said Mr. 
Greenwell to her. 

She shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. 

“ If I were a man,” she said, “ or old and ugly, the mob 
would probably have gone the other way. Can’t I wait 
until the crowd have gone?” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


43 


“ I will take you round by the judges* entrance/* said 
Lorraine, quietly. “ Come with me.** 

“ Thank you so much/* said the girl; and Lorraine 
put her hand on his arm and began to make his way 
through the crowd, now breaking up and beginning to dis- 
perse. 

; “ Mr. Lorraine is taking Beryl out/* said Enid to her 
sister; “ I must speak to her.** 

“ Papa will be very angry, Enid.** 

“I don’t care.** 

Enid, like many women not strong of will, was brave as 
a lion where her affections were called into play. 

She rose, and contrived to push her way to Beryl’s side, 
touching her on the arm. 

Beryl started, and turning, flushed crimson as she saw 
who had touched her. 

“Oh! Beryl!** said Enid, passionately, and holding out 
her hand, “lam so glad — so glad you are acquitted! Do 
forgive me — they made me speak!** 

Beryl’s eyes were blind with tears. 

“ I never blamed you,” she said, softly. “You have 
always been generous to me. Good-bye, dear!” 

She gave her hand for a moment, withdrawing it 
quickly. 

“Oh! Beryl, not good-bye!” 

“Yes,” said the other, almost sternly, “ it must be 
that!” 

She passed on, and Enid found herself pulled back by 
her father, but gave no heed to his angry expostulation with 
her for speaking to Beryl Carolan. 

There were some who pressed forward to congratulate 
Beryl on her acquittal, but she shrunk from them 
haughtily. 

“ Victory is always innocent, isn’t it?” she said to one 
lady, with a bitter irony that effectually checked any 
further advance, and pained though Lorraine felt, he 
could not but sympathize with his client. 

In her place he would have acted as she did. If these 
people really believed her innocent, why did they not come 
forward to stand by her while her fate hung in the balance? 

No one could seriously argue that the trial had cleared 
up anything that before was doubtful; that the verdict 


44 


SIHNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Not guilty ” recorded more than what in Scotland would 
have stood as 44 Not proven.” 

Lorraine had already dispatched a messenger to send 
Miss Carolan’s brougham round to the judge’s entrance, 
and it was standing ready when he and his client reached 
the door. 

44 Drive round by the back ways,” said Lorraine to the 
coachman, 44 so as to avoid the crowd.” 

He handed Beryl into the carriage, and she turned and 
gave him her hand, her eyes drooping, her color rising. 

44 Once more,” she said, slowly, 44 thank you! You can 
never know fully how grateful I am to you!” 

Still holding that little hand in his own, Lorraine said 
gently: 

4 4 Don’t speak of gratitude; it is due from me to you. 
Good-bye! Heaven keep you!” 

He longed just to touch his lips to this girl’s hand 
before he released it, but that would have been a grave 
breach of honor; he was her counsel, bound to keep 
within the limits of his trust; but he could not help add- 
ing those last words, and they, at least, were not out of 
place. They were spoken very earnestly, and they went 
to Beryl’s heart like a shock. 

She started, and turned her face away, with a blinding 
rush of tears to her eyes. 

44 God keep me!” she muttered, brokenly. 44 Bather — 
God help me!” 

Lorraine heard, but he had loosed her hand and stepped 
back as he spoke, and the carriage drove on even as Beryl 
answered him — if answer it could be called, which was only 
the irrepressible outcry of utter misery. 

The man stood still a minute — quite still; then he had 
mastered himself, and could turn back into the court. 

His parting words were ringing in Beryl Carolan’s 
heart, and hers in his. 


CHAPTEB VII. 

JUSTIN' HARWOOD. 

It was midnight, and beside a blazing fire in a small 
but richly furnished room in a house in Hanover Street 
sat a strangely assorted couple. 

One of these, who reclined upon a sofa with a handsome 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


45 


wrap partially covering him, was a man apparently be- 
tween fiyty and sixty. He had the appearance of a gentle- 
man, butXhis countenance was not prepossessing. It might 
be partly Decause he had allowed his hair — once black, now 
grizzled — lip grow so low on his forehead, and his whiskers, 
beard, and mustache to clothe too thickly the lower part 
of his face, giving a somewhat uncivilized aspect to features 
already harsh and rugged; but it was due also to a certain 
shiftiness in the close-set light eyes — a something in the 
whole face that seemed to index a life stormy and ill- 
spent; and what could be seen of the mouth clearly indi- 
cated a violent temper. 

Opposite to this gentleman, in a low arm-chair, sat Beryl 
Carolan, her head, with its wealth of red -gold curls, lean- 
ing on her hands, which were clasped behind it, her atti- 
tude, full of negligent grace, showing the perfect curves of 
her slight form. She was staring with a listlessness, real 
or assumed, into the fire, and listening to what the gentle- 
man was saying. 

“ I don’t see the use of going abroad; we can do much 
better here — better in one way, after what has happened, 
than before. Don’t you think so, girl?” 

“ Yes,” she answered, in that unemotional way in 
which she had spoken to Lorraine about the charge 
against her, and which, to a keen physiognomist, meant 
more than the passion of most women, for her face showed 
a character in which all the currents ran strong. “ Yes, 
I know what you mean, of course — the old Barcelona life 
over again, with a variation.” 

“ And a most profitable life it was,” remarked Justin 
Harwood; “ only — mind, if you play the fool as you did 
there — ” 

“ Don’t excite yourself,” interrupted Beryl, coolly, 
without a movement — without a change of color. “ 1 
shall do here precisely what I did there, if the occasion 
arises. Maybe it won’t; they are a wilder lot at Barcelona 
than in London; but I’ll not take insult from any man 
living!” 

“You draw fine distinctions/’ said her uncle, with a 
savage sneer. “ What was your position there? — what will 
it be here?” 

“ My position is one thing, my own self-respect an- 
other.” 


46 


SINNER OR VICTIM f 


“ But the world reckons the last by the first/’ 

“ Naturally. And as I have borne much then. I must 
bear much now. I am an 4 an adventuress/ a morally 
convicted thief, who only escaped legal punishment through 
the skill of her counsel, and perhaps some aid from her 
youth and good looks; but you know the length of my 
tether, and if any man exceeds it through your fault, you 
know equally what I shall do.” 

44 You speak boldly, girl,” said Harwood, roughly. . 

44 Boldly because— safely. You daren’t quarrel with 

me, Justin, so there’s no use in blustering.” . 

It seemed strange that she should call her uncle simply 
by his Christian name; but it was her humor, apparently, 
to do so, and he had no objection. 

44 You tempt me sometimes,” returned Harwood, rais- 
ing himself abruptly, 44 to go straight—” 

But there he stopped, for Beryl was laughing, 44 with a 
low, shadowy laughter ’’—not a particle of mirth in it— 
so bitter, so mocking, that, musical though it was in 
sound, it was terrible to hear. Harwood stared at her. 

44 Well?” he said, savagely, at last. 

The girl ceased laughing. 

44 Well,” she answered, 44 you make me laugh; it’s not 
my fault. Now, will you go on with what you were saying 
at first?” 

It was singular to see this stalwart man, who did not 
look as if there were many things he would shrink from, 
cowed by this fragile stripling, who set him at naught 
whenever she chose; perhaps his lameness — his dependence 
on her — made him afraid to bi;ave her; but cowed, and 
thoroughly cowed, he certainly was. He muttered an 
execration, and then threw himself back with a laugh, as 
if the subject were not worth a struggle. 

44 Have it your own way,” he said. 44 Only don’t cry 
out before you’re bitten.” 

44 1 wasn’t doing that, Justin. I was only warning you 
before you let the dog loose. Haven’t you done with 
trying to deceive me? Do you suppose I don’t know who 
it was put up Zorilla to the idea that he could buy me with 
his diamonds and his palaces and the rest of his parapher- 
nalia?” 

44 Bah! Was there any need to put him up to it? Y T ou 
have acted foolishly all round. You might have been 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


4 ? 


Marqum Zorilla if you’d played your cards properly; and 
you wouldn’t. I did a good thing for you once, and what 
was my reward?” 

“ I know what you deserved for that 4 good thing/ ” re- 
turned the girl, with a fierce flash in those violet-blue eyes 
of hers which gave a glimpse of wilder passion than usually 
slumbered under the garb of modern civilization. “You 
deserved what you would have given. You were lucky to 
escape.” 

“ Charming tigress! However — to business! You’ve 
done one good stroke already.” 

“ I don’t understand you.” 

“ Capital! I was going to say that you haven’t been on 
the stage for nothing, my dear; but I really think nature 
has supplied you with all the requisite material.” 

Beryl was looking at him under veiling lids, with a 
growing horror in her eyes. 

“ Do you mean to say that you had no eyes to the future 
when you instructed your solicitor to go to Yere Lorraine?” 

The girl set her teeth like a vise, as if forcing down some 
passionate outburst. When she spoke it was in the cool, 
careless manner in which it seemed she frequently addressed 
her uncle. 

“You know perfectly well,” she said, “that when I 
went to Yere Lorraine you had no plans for the future. 
Only this very night you have decided to remain in Eng- 
land; it was on the cards that we went abroad again; and 
you know equally well that I never have tried to trap any 
man to come to your gambling salon .” 

“ All right. We won’t .quarrel on that head. But all 
the same, it’s quite possible he may come. If you ignored 
a possible future — more fool you; that’s all! He’s got 
heaps of money, and may as well spend it here as anywhere 
else.” 

Beryl did not answer; she sat staring blankly into the 
fire. Her heart was beating in slow, heavy throbs. Was 
there any truth in Justin Harwood’s words? any possibility 
that Vere Lorraine would not let the woman whose cause 
he had pleaded drop out of his life? Beryl Carolan knew 
her power; how could she fail to know it? Could she feel 
sure that it had not — though by no act or will of her 
own — influenced Lorraine? She said to herself: 

“ Maybe for the time, as a man is captivated by beauty; 


48 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

but he is a busy man; his life is filled by many things; he 
likes, perhaps — is growing to love, Enid Roden; he will 
forget me— 4s he should; lie will not come here:'” 

Yet there was no wish, no hope to see him again, side by 
side with the wish, the hope that they had parted forever 
when Vere Lorraine, holding her hand in Ms, had said, 
44 Heaven keep you!” 

44 There's no doubt of success,” Ilarwcod went on. 
44 It's a safer game here than in Paris, where they can 
jump on you; but in this country you can do pretty well 
what you like. Call a thing a club, and you can make it 
a gaming and drinking-saloon rolled into one if you choose. 
IPs a man's own fault if he can't make a living in Lon- 
don.” 

44 Unless he have a conscience,” said Beryl, 44 and then 
he may chance to starve!” 

44 And isn't it his fault if he have a conscience? Bah! 
there are thousands worse than I am, who sneak about, and 
go to church, and do the respectable all round, and their 
business life is one swindle.” 

44 The worse for them and none the better for you, Jus- 
tin.” 

44 Bah! if we're no worse than the rest of the world, 
there's nothing much adrift. We shall make a good start 
at next Thursday's 4 at home;' the men will come, not the 
women. By the way, do you know anything of that fellow 
Gresham, who came last week?” 

44 Only that he seems to be well off, and is separated 
from his wife.” 

44 Who is his wife?” 

44 Emilie Leicester — a cousin of Lorraine. The Rodens 
know her.” 

44 H'm! Gresham goes in for high play, and can drink a 
few good glasses of wine, eh?” 

44 He won’t do the last in my presence, Justin.” 

“No need, my girl, no need,” returned Harwood, 
hastily, dreading a contest in which he knew he must be 
worsted. 44 He can’t know the rigs, and he doesn't look 
as if he'd twig too much.” 

44 I'm going to my room,” said Beryl, rising suddenly, 
44 it’s near one, 'and there’s nothing more to talk about. 
Good-night.” 

The girl went slowly from the room, up the stairs, to 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 5 


49 


her owm The lamps on the table were burning low; she 
did not tVrn them out; she stopped, leaning against the 
door which she had closed behind her, and gazed before 
her with a stony despair in her young face far more ter- 
rible than any passionate grief. 

“ I wonder ,’ 7 she said in a half-dreamv tone, “ whether 
it would be so great a sin to end it all? What is my life — 
what can it ever be? But the priests tell us that suicide 
cuts off forgiveness — and I have so much need of forgive- 
ness. Cruel as the grave? It is life that is cruel, not 
death!” 


CHAPTER V1IL 

EMILIE GRESHAM. 

The many tongues of the hydra-headed press were 
loosed concerning the case of Beryl Carolan, and they 
spoke, one and all. 

Various were the comments; all pitied the beautiful 
girl so abruptly hurled down from her high estate. Some 
considered that Mr. Roden would have acted more gener- 
ously in not prosecuting; others warned society against its 
too ready welcome to strangers; but all agreed on one 
point — that the verdict was practically not proven ; that 
Beryl Carolan escaped, not because the evidence cleared 
her, but because it was not sufficient to condemn her. 
Socially, the effect was the same; “the places that knew 
Beryl Carolan could know her no more; she must take 
rank as a lovely and more than usually clever adventuress; 
and of course the gossip of club and tea-table was quick to 
endow that word “ adventuress ” with its fullest, most 
sinister, meaning. People will forgive anything sooner 
than being duped, and Beryl Carolan had committed an 
unpardonable sin — she had duped society. 

A lady, sitting alone in her drawing-room in the even- 
ing, read the “ Times ” leader on the famous trial for the 
second time that day, and laid the paper down, when she 
had finished, with a sigh. 

The room was small, the house was in Norfolk Street, 
Park Lane; but it was furnished with a taste which does 
not always go hand in hand with the means which enable 
its full development. Tints were well chosen and well 
grouped, and there was none of the crowding so common 


50 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


in ladies’ drawing-rooms, disagreeable to the eye, distract- 
ing to male visitors, who are always colliding with spider- 
legged tables and gingerbread chairs, and disastrous to the 
bric-a-brac with which the said tables are always loaded. 

The lady was still young, perhaps thirty, perhaps a few 
years more; but hers was a sorrowful as well as a pretty 
face. The features might not bear artistic criticism, but 
the eyes were singularly sweet in expression; there was a 
soft rose flush on the cheeks, and the general effect was 
something better than prettiness. In form she was petite 
and slight. She looked the kind of woman a man should 
cherish and protect; not foolish or helpless, but yet happi- 
est when protected, and at her best under the conditions 
for which nature and training fitted her. 

44 I wonder if Vere will come in this evening,” she said 
to herself ■, glancing at the clock. ‘ 4 1 have not liked to ask 
him; but I fancy he will come if he can. Is that a han- 
som outside?” 

She started, and listening, with a bright sparkle in her 
eyes, and a second later the door-bell rang; then a pause, 
and then a light tap at the drawing-room door. 

4 4 Come in!” she cried, and in came the tall form of 
Vere Lorraine. 4 4 How good of you!” she cried, spring- 
ing to meet him with outstretched hands. 44 I was so long- 
ing for you to come.” 

44 Were you, dear?” said he, tenderly, and stooping he 
kissed her on the cheek; 44 then .1 am doubly glad I came.” 
He led her back to her seat on the couch by the fire, and 
sat down by her side. 44 And why,” he added; 44 did you 
want so specially to see me this evening?” 

44 You must know, Vere,” returned his cousin, 44 1 wish 
I had had the courage to be in court; but I didn’t feel 
that I could bear to see that poor girl in the dock; and 
then I so dread a crowd. But I am so glad she is 
acquitted, and I liked your speech so much, Vere.” 

44 Thanks, Emmie, for the last. But why are you so glad 
that Beryl Carolan is acquitted?” 

Emilie Gresham looked at her cousin in a puzzled man- 
ner; but she could make nothing of his face — no one could 
if he meant to conceal his thoughts. 

44 What an odd question,” she said; 44 of course I should 
be glad. No one wants, surely, to see a gently bred woman 
sent to prison.'” 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


51 


“ I see. Now I have my answer.” 

“ What cto you mean, Vere?” 

“ I wanted to discover if you had any doubt of her guilt.” 

He gave her no “ lead ” in his manner of saying these 
words. Mrs. Gresham looked toward the fire and shook 
her head. 

“ Why,” she said, “ she is certainly guilty. Don’t you 
think so, Vere?” 

“ No.” 

Emilie turned round quickly. 

“ No!” she repeated, wonderingly. “ Do you mean 
that — ” She paused. 

“ I mean that Beryl Oarolan did not steal those dia- 
monds.” 

Emilie Gresham had such blind belief in her cousin as 
to endow him with almost supernatural powers, and if 
Lorraine had told her two and two made six she would 
have begun to question the facts of arithmetic. It was 
quite in the order of things, therefore, for her to accept 
his last words as an ipse clixit, and so she said: 

“ Who did, then? Didn’t Miss Oarolan know anything 
about the matter?” 

“ I don’t say that; and I am only giving you my own 
opinion. The presumption is against Miss Oarolan.” 

“ But you are sure to be right, Vere.” 

He smiled. 

“ If I accepted your opinion of me, Emmie, I should be 
vain enough for anything; fortunately, I have sufficient 
modesty to discount it. I might be wrong; but my own 
mind is perfectly clear on the point. The girl is shielding 
some one else’s guilt, not hiding her own.” 

Emilie sat silent and pensive for a minute. 

“ She never told you anything, then?” she said, at 
length. 

“You silly little woman! if she had, should I be speak- 
ing as I am speaking now — should I so betray trust?” 

“ Of course not, Vere. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“ No,” Lorraine went on; “ she kept her own counsel 
to me as to the world. I am judging by my own observa- 
tion-founding my opinion, in part, upon things, many of 
which could not well be defined; others I prefer not to 
define. But I repeat that the girl is not guilty of that 
crime. Nothing short of her own confession — and not 


52 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

even that if I saw a motive for self-accusation—- would con- 
vince me that she was.’ ^ 

“ You speak strongly, Vere; and you would not allow 
yourself to be influenced by Miss Carolan’s beauty?” 

“ Scarcely; not where it was a question of guilt or inno- 
cence. I was junior, when I was first at the bar, in a case 
that made a great stir at the time. The accused was a 
woman, the charge one of murder; she was said to have 
poisoned her husband. She was young, very lovely, with 
the face of an ingenue — sweet, frank, and innocent, look- 
ing you full in the face with those cloudless china-blue 
eyes. We were retained for the defense, and my leader 
was perfectly convinced of the woman’s innocence, but I 
said all along I believed her guilty. The evidence was 
defective, and if it had been twice as strong the jury would 
have acquitted our client. She was acquitted amid a 
storm of excitement; the judge almost wept, handkerchiefs 
were to the fore in the jury-box and all over the court. 
Nevertheless, two years later, the lovely widow, b^ing 
taken up for another crime, I forget what, serenely con- 
fessed to the poisoning.” 

“Horrible wr’etch!” said Emilie, shuddering; “but 
then, Vere, what made you think her guilty if the evidence 
was defective?” 

“Just things of the kind which now make me believe 
Beryl Carolan innocent — partly points of evidence which, 
though legally insufficient, were, to my mind, morally con- 
vincing; partly things about the woman herself. As a 
judge, I should have acquitted her; but I should know I 
was acquitting a guilty woman.” 

“ That’s a sort of thing I can’t understand, you 
know,” said Mrs. Gresham. 

“ Because, woman-like, dear, you want to put feeling 
and impressions in the place of law. 1 am afraid a good 
many innocent prisoners would be condemned if that were 
the rule. There’s already too much of it with juries.” 

“ Well, women generally get the benefit of it,” said 
Emilie; “ so they have no cause to complain. But you 
would have gained Miss Carolan’s case anyhow, Vere. 
You would persuade a jury to anything.” 

“ Emmie,” said her cousin, “ whenever I feel inclined 
for a very strong whiff of incense I have only to come to 
you.” 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 53 

“ But what I said is true, isn’t it?” cried Mrs. Gresham. 

“ Partly — not entirely.” 

“ Oh, nonsense! Everybody says — ” 

“ Never mind what everybody says", coz; I came to see 
you, and talk to you about this trial in which you are so 
much interested, not to listen to glorifications of myself.” 

“ Then I’ll spare you, but keep my opinion all the 
same,” returned Emilie. 44 And now 1 am going to ask 
you a lot of questions.” 

And she was as good as her word. How did Beryl 
Carolan bear herself? — how did she look? What did she 
wear? would have followed, only that the “descriptive 
reporter ” had already supplied information on that point. 
How did Enid give evidence? was she nervous under cross- 
examination? etc., etc. ; all of which questions Lorraine an- 
swered satisfactorily. 

Then said Emilie, thoughtfully: 

“It is a very strange case — very strange! I wonder if 
the truth will ever be discovered?” 

“ Heaven knows!” 

“ Perhaps,” Mrs. Gresham continued, “ Miss Carolan 
will go abroad — what can she do in this country? — and you 
and she will never meet again.” 

“ Likely enough,” he answered, with just the right 
shade of indifference in his tone and manner, but an unde- 
fined feeling in his heart that the likelihood was the other 
way — that he would make it so. 

“ If you did meet,” added Emilie, “ you might be fall- 
ing in love, and that wouldn’t do, would it?” 

“ I am afraid I am hardly the man to think about what 
‘ would do,’ Emmie, if I fell in love, and I am quite ready 
to allow that Beryl Carolan is 4 dangerous!’ ” 

“ Very — I should say,” replied Emilie, emphatically. 
“ But you mustn’t fall in love with her, Vere. There are 
so many nice girls — but I don’t think I know of any good 
enough for you — unless — it were Enid Roden — no, she 
isn’t, but she’s the nearest.” 

44 Enid Roden!” repeated Lorraine, and then he laughed. 
“ Are you 4 speiring,’ Emmie, dear?” 

44 No — 1 know it would be useless with you. But she 
is a very sweet girl, isn’t she?” 

44 Very sweet.” 

“And May?” 


54 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

“ May has more character. By the way, Roden has 
given Hazlemere the commission to paint May’s portrait, 
despite my having appeared for the defense to-day.” 

44 I am so glad.” 

She saw that Lorraine did not care to discuss Enid 
Roden, and so did not return to the subject. 

Was Lorraine growing to like Enid? 

“ When does Hazlemere commence work?” added 
Emilie. 

44 In another month or so, 1 believe.” 

“ Yes.” 

Mrs. Gresham spoke a little absently. Her eyes wan- 
dered to the fire. Lorraine watched her keenly, but in 
silence. Suddenly she said, without looking round: 

44 Vere, have you seen him lately — Herbert?” 

He knew quite well where her thoughts had strayed. 
Cruel as her husband had been to her, she loved him still, 
with the tenacious affection of a woman, and in her heart 
forgave him. 

44 I saw him a few days ago,” said Lorraine, gently, 44 in 
Piccadilly, and Hazlemere supped with him and others a 
few nights ago.” 

44 And you thought him — not changed?” was Emilie's 
next question. 

44 Hot changed, dear. I wish I could give you better 
comfort; but I can not be untrue to you.” 

44 No — no!” said Emilie, clasping her hands, 44 I would 
not have you otherwise. Your loyalty is an inexpressible 
comfort to me. I always know that I can trust you per- 
fectly.” 

Lorraine took one of the trembling hands in his, and that 
strong, sympathetic clasp strengthened the woman’s spirit, 
as wine strengthens the weak body. She looked up to 
him with dim, grateful eyes. 

4 4 Ah, Vere,” she "said, softly, 44 how few there are like 
you — and, oh! so many like him ! ' I sometimes think that 
if I had been more forbearing — ” 

44 Nay, Emmie, dear,” her cousin said, very earnestly and 
gently, but firmly: 44 you must not reproach yourself. 
Heaven knows you bore enough — too much. There is a 
point where the endurance of wrongs becomes a sin; you 
almost reached that point — forgive me, dear; you were too 
true a woman to quite reach it.” 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 55 

“ I know you are right, Vere. Yet if now — after three 
years — I held out the olive-branch — ” 

“ Your husband would accept it, Emmie, with contempt 
in his heart for you, and would treat you as a slave. The 
olive-branch must come from him. He has wronged you 
too deeply for you to make overtures of peace — unless he 
returns to you of his own will, seeking forgiveness, because 
he knows he has sore need of it — it will be all in vain.” 

She sighed heavily. 

“You are right,” she said again; “ and you know that 
I would never act in this matter without your advice. I 
am not a strong, self-reliant woman. I only hope my 
dependence on you is not a burden to you.” 

4 4 A burden, Emmie? It is a very precious and sacred 
charge. Were we not good friends even in the days when 
I was a youth at college and you a little girl, and 1 tried to 
teach you to row— and, I am bound to say, didn't suc- 
ceed?” 

“ Oh, I was always so stupid at things of that sort!” 
exclaimed Emilie, half laughing and half crying; “ but I 
learned chess better, didn’t I? Ah! those were happy 
days, Vere.” 

“The sunshine has not all faded, Emmie, has it?” he 
said in a brighter tone. “ Heaven grant there may yet be 
sunny days in store for you!” 

“ It seems folly to hope, Vere,” said his cousin; “ and 
yet I can't quite help hoping. And you?” 

“I?” he answered, rising, and he smiled. “ Do you 
fancy I am unhappy, Emmie?” 

“ N-no — not that; but you might be happier.” 

“ Most of us ‘ might be happier,' ” replied Lorraine. 
“ The world has treated me well; I have hosts of friends — 
dearest of all, my little cousin. What more can I need?” 

“Something still, Vere,” she said; “you know that, 
don't you?” 

“ I know what you mean, Emmie.” 

“Ah! you evade me. Well, never mind. Some 
day — ” 

“ You will laugh at me, or be sorry for me. Which?” 

“ Never the first, Vere. I don’t think the last— I hope 
not.” 

“ And I also; but quien scibe ? No man can be trusted 
in the affairs of love.” 


56 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

He spoke jestingly, and Emilie Gresham, as she bid him 
adieu, certainly never supposed that she would have any 
reason to remember either her words or his — any reason to 
grieve that Yere Lorraine loved “ not wisely, but too well.” 


CHAPTER IX. 
at harwood’s. 

There was something of an Oriental tone about this 
drawing-room, more quickly felt than easy to define. It 
might be the profusion of flowers, the rich, yet subdued 
tints of the draperies, the soft, rosy glow of light shed, not 
from gas-burners, but from graceful hanging-lamps and 
wax-lights — the faint perfume that filled the air; it was all 
these things, perhaps, and more besides. A delicious 
room to sit and dream in, or lounge in one of those 
luxurious fauteuils, listening to music. It seemed to be 
out of harmony with anything commonplace; one needed 
a touch of poetry in the people and the talk. 

Yet beyond the arch draped by sweeping amber curtains, 
looped back by golden cords and tassels, was a scene 
scarcely poetic, and on the surface commonplace. 

For card-tables were set out, and about a dozen men were 
playing cards, though none of them was too intent on the 
game to abstract all attention from the one woman who, 
not playing herself, moved in and out among the players. 

A girl with short curls of reddish-gold hair, and deep 
violet eyes, and a complexion strangely pale, yet so won- 
derfully clear and soft that its very pallor seemed, some- 
how, an added beauty. 

The girl’s dress was one of those combinations of pale 
green and amber, which, both for color and the exquisite 
flow of artistic folds — it seemed to be made of silk that 
can be drawn through a wedding-ring — one seldom sees 
out of a picture. A living picture, this woman ; no won- 
der that even gamblers could hardly keep any wits for the 
cards when she was present. 

“ Your play, Mr. Standish,” she said, pausing carelessly - 
by the chair of a young man who was playing vingt-et-un 
with three others, among them Justin Harwood, who half 
reclined on a couch; “ you don’t look at your cards.” 

“ How can I?” said he, glancing upward significantly. 

Beryl Carolan laughed. 


SISTMER OR VICTIM? 


57 


44 Then I will go into the drawing-room/* she said. 

4 4 If you do. Miss Carolan, you will break up the game,” 
said Rowel iff e, who was one of the players. 

Harwood was banker. 

44 All the better for you,” she returned, coolly, 44 for 
you have been losing.” 

She turned to a neighboring table, where sat Herbert 
Gresham and a young nobleman — Lord Charles Welby — 
playing ecarte. 

44 Who is winning?” she asked, seating herself. 44 Welby, 
I see.” 

44 Take my cards,” said Gresham, 44 and play for me, 
and the luck will turn.” 

44 Oh, I should throw up my cards against such an oppo- 
nent!” cried young Welby. 

44 Make yourself easy,” said Beryl, coolly; 44 1 am not 
going to play. I detest cards; I can not understand the 
pleasure of gambling.” 

44 It is the hope, the uncertainty,” said Gresham; 44 the 
same excitement one has in speculating.” 

44 1 am not speculative, and I assure you that card-play- 
ing bores me to extinction.” 

44 You never play? Yet you know all the games?” said 
Lord Charles. 

44 Surely — a good deal many more than you know, may- 
be; but perhaps for that very reason I hate cards.” 

44 But they are so exciting,” said Gresham. 

Beryl laughed. 

44 You find them so; I could not get excited — only 
bored.” 

44 Even if you are winning?” 

44 That makes no difference. Now, your play. Losing 
again? Oh! I have made you talk and spoiled your play. 

I am going away.” 

44 No, no!” cried Gresham, eagerly. 44 1 would a mill- 
ion times rather lose the game than your company!” 

44 No doubt. But I will return by and by, and see how 
much more you have lost.” 

At that moment a man who had just risen from a table 
near — a good-looking fellow of perhaps thirty, a well- 
known litterateur — came up to Beryl. 

44 Miss Carolan,” he . said, entreatingly, 44 won't you 
favor us with a song?” 


58 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


“ Have you been losing, then, at cards/’ said the girl, 
archly, “ that you fall back on music?” 

“ No; but I greatly prefer the music — especially when 
you are the singer,” was the reply. 

“ After that pretty speech,” said Beryl, rising, “ I sup- 
pose I must comply with your request. What shall I 
sing?” 

“ Anything,” as she placed her hand on the speaker’s 
arm; “ it is sure to be charming.” 

“ Of course. Well, I must make my own choice, I sup- 
pose.” 

Justin Harwood looked after his niece’s retreating figure, 
and his brow contracted slightly, for there was an in- 
definite restless movement among the men which indicated 
a disposition to follow where Beryl led. Mr. Harwood did 
not want to have his guests drawn away from the tables. 

Meanwhile, Beryl’s companion had opened the beautiful 
grand piano which stood in the adjoining room, and Beryl 
was bending over a portfolio wherein were songs in half a 
dozen different languages. 

“ Here is one,” she said at last, “ that I think you will 
like. It is a Bohemian melody. 



odd rhythm. The words were 


rendering of them — don’t criticise that, please.” 

“Iam sure it will be good. But do you understand the 
Czech?” 

“ I have something more than a smattering of it. I was 
in Prague three months, you know, and I am very quick 
at languages.” 

“ I think you have been everywhere!” 

“ To most places in Europe, and a good many outside of 
it, Mr. Malleson.” 

She sat down to the piano, and began a quaint, wild 
symphony, and a moment later her rich, full, strangely 
pathetic voice filled the room, and brought most of the 
men flocking in from the card-room, those who remained 
behind dropping their cards or playing wildly. 

These were the words, every word crisply enunciated: 

“Oh, moaning wind! Oh, rolling sea! 

Oil, heart that is grieving! 

Oh, hands that are weaving 
One sark for my love and me! 

' Where the waves sob and weep, 

Softly we two will sleep. 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


59 


Hush! Stay, spinning! He speaks! I hear! 

He calls to me. ‘ Yes, I am coming, dear.’ 

Long years he is dead; I am old and gray. 

No, no; he died only yesterday! 

Almost my weary task is o’er; 

Weep for us both, oh, wind! oh, sea! 

The shroud’s nearly finished for him and me; 

To-morrow, dear love, I shall spin no more.” 

Beryl threw an intensity of passionate feeling into the 
words and song which was a revelation to two or three of 
her listeners, who, never having heard her sing before, and 
being but superficial observers, judged her by the esprit 
moquant which they took to express her real nature. 
Beryl, in truth, had forgotten her audience, as a genuine * 
artist should do, and her emotions had the fuller play be- 
cause they were habitually veiled. The surroundings, the 
room, the men about her, came back to her with a kind of 
shock when she dropped her hands from the keys. 

The murmur of admiration and delight — far more 
eloquent tribute than the usual 4 4 Oh, thanks !” etc. — 
gave her no pleasure. It was no happiness to her to please 
these men; but when, one and all, they urged her to sing 
again, she complied, choosing one of Schubert’s ballads; 
and then again she was begged to sing, and gave them, 
“ Oh, That We Two Were Maying!” But after that she 
rose. 

44 1 have sung enough for the present,” she said. 44 None 
of you want to lie under the church-yard sod just yet, do 
you? Vive la bagatelle /” 

She turned away and dropped into a fauteuil near one 
of the windows. Some of the men lingered near her, 
others returned to the card-room. Beryl glanced up at 
Bowcliffe, who was one of the former. 

44 1 wonder if Mr. Hazlemere is coming this evening?” 
she said. 44 Have you seen him lately?” 

44 1 met him yesterday evening in Piccadilly, with Vere 
Lorraine. They were going to St. James’s Hall.” 

Vere Lorraine! It was six weeks ago Beryl had seen him 
last, and now the mere name seemed to stop the beating of 
her heart. But there was no change of color, not the 
quiver of ' an eyelid. She had her nerves under perfect 
control. 

44 They were going to the popular concert, I suppose?” 
she observed at once. 44 They were doing Beethoven’s 


GO SINNER OR VICTIM? 

septet, I know; and Lorraine is a devotee of music, isn’t 
lie?” 

“ Mad about it,” replied Kowcliffe, laughing. “ Hazle- 
mere spoke of coming in this evening.” 

A vague something — was it hope, was it dread, or both? — 
stirred in the woman’s heart. Vere Lorraine here! She 
shrunk from the very thought. What could he deem her 
to be? He must already believe her a thief; and does not 
all experience prove that a woman who commits crime is 
rarely of otherwise blameless lifer And to see her amid 
these surroundings! He had heard of the salon , true; 
every one was talking of Harwood’s “evenings;” but 
“ things seen are mightier than things heard.” 

Yet,' if he came, would it be for the sake of play? 
Surely not. Vere Lorraine was no gambler. Would it 
be — Nay, hope was selfish; she must crush it. 

There was scarcely a pause before Beryl said, carelessly: 

“ I dare say he will turn up. Have you seen his new 
picture — a view on the Arno? It is a gem. I know the 
place so well.” 

“I am a poor judge of pictures. No, I haven’t seen 
the work.” 

“ If you don’t care for pictures, you have lost nothing. 
A hansom has just stopped. Perhaps that is Mr. Hazle- 
mere.” 

“ You are very anxious for him to come,” said Kowcliffe, 
lightly, but with a touch' of jealousy in his tone. 

“ I like people who can talk sense,” returned Beryl, 
coolly. 

“ Which means that I can not?” 

“ No — you can, but you seldom do; so you are a sinner 
where others are only fools.” 

“ I must set about mending my ways,” said Kowcliffe 
in a low tone — he had seated himself by her side — “ and 
then, perhaps, I shall earn forgiveness.” 

“ I have nothing to forgive you for; I accept nonsense 
as a matter of course.” 

“ And it makes no difference to you, then, how I talk?” 
said Kowcliffe, gnawing his lip. 

“ Yes — perhaps; don’t get angry; that won’t have the 
least effect — a new-comer, you will have to excuse me.” 

She turned toward the door as the servant flung it open. 

“ Mr. Lorraine — Mr. Hazlemere!” 


Sinner or victim? 


61 


Beryl rose slowly, and for just a moment she paused, so 
that Hazlemere was half across the room before she 
advanced to meet him. What she experienced in that 
moment — what wonder — what delight — what agony of pain 
and humiliation, no one could have dreamed who saw her 
face, colorless now, as always — her eyes smiling a wel- 
come, while her teeth were close set — then the lips, too, 
smiled, and the outstretched hand — the low, sweet voice, 
seconded face and hand. 

“ Ah! Mr. Hazlemere, I am so glad to see you. Mr. 
Lorraine!” 

She gave her hand to the painter; then transferred it to 
his friend. 

“ I have used my carte blanche, you see, Miss Carolan,” 
said Hazlemere. 

“Iam very pleased,” she said, “ to meet Mr. Lorraine 
again.” 

So, still with a smile, she was easy, graceful, mistress 
of herself; but her eyes had not met Lorraine’s — he 
felt just a quiver pass through her hand as his closed over 
it. He could not know, could not dream, all that was 
in her heart; but this at least, he could read — “ You 
here — who know me for a thief — who must believe me to 
be even worse ” — and his own heart rebelled against that 
thought in hers which made her gaze shun his and her 
hand tremble in his clasp. 

“ Thank you,” he said, answering Beryl’s words, “ for 
your kind welcome.” 

He spoke as if he meant it, and Ber} 7 !, somehow, felt 
that he did; yet did he not know that this was Liberty 
Hall, where any man — well-bred and moving in good 
circles — was welcome, if he would risk his money at play? 

“ Let me introduce you to my uncle,” she added. “ He 
is in the next room.” 

What would Lorraine think of Justin Harwood? That 
was the question Beryl was asking herself as she crossed 
the drawing-room, leaning on Vere’s arm. 

Harwood, deserted for a time, was still reclining on the 
couch near one of the card-tables. He looked up as he 
saw his niece and the guest approaching, and Beryl shot a 
keen, covert glance in the latter's face. 

“ Uncle Justin,” she said, “ this is Mr. Lorraine.” 

Harwood raised himself, and held out his hand. 


62 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Very pleased to see you,” he said, with that kind of 
abruptness which is not underbred, but yet lacks all 
suavity — a manner not unfrequently found among gentle- 
men who have associated much with inferiors. 

Lorraine shook hands; but he could not, in sincerity, 
have returned his host's compliment. His impression of 
Mr. Justin Harwood was by no means favorable. 

“ I wouldn't trust you, my friend, further than I could 
see you,” was the keen-sighted advocate's inward com- 
ment; “and the seamy side of life has been uppermost 
with you. Heaven help Beryl Carolan!'' 

The men came flocking back into the card-room again, 
some, who knew Lorraine, greeting him; others were intro- 
duced to him ; professed gamesters were some of these, and 
Beryl Carolan the only woman present. Thorough scoun- 
drel, whatever his looks, must be the man who placed her, 
with her dazzling beauty, too, amid such surroundings; 
yet, if she were no stranger to a scene like this — if it were 
not the first time she had been the presiding genius of a 
thinly veiled gambling salon — she held her own with a dig- 
nity the more perfect, the more beautiful, in that it was 
not overt. She laughed, jested, kept no one at a distance, 
and yet perhaps the boldest there would not have ventured 
a look or word that could give offense. Did Vere Lor- 
raine judge Beryl as she feared? No.‘ 

“ Do you play cards, Mr. Lorraine?” asked Harwood. 

“ Sometimes,” he answered. “ I'll try issues with you 
at ecarte, if you will allow me.” 

“ With pleasure.” 

Lorraine seated himself. Beryl, moving round the 
table, paused behind her uncle's couch, and laid her hand 
a moment lightly on his shoulder; then she turned away, 
speaking to Hazlemere and some others. 

Lorraine, playing his own game, and as Harwood quickly 
saw, thoroughly au fait , had eyes and senses for every- 
thing else around him. The stakes, he noticed, were 
mostly high, and ran up to figures only permitted in regu- 
lar gambling clubs. Here there seemed no limit, unless 
Beryl Carolan chose to put one, which once or twice she 
did. In one case it was a young officer who was playing 
three-handed euchre with Herbert Gresham and Standish, 
and who, having already lost nearly one hundred pounds. 


SINNER OR VICTIM? '63 

wanted to double the stakes. His face was flushed and 
excited, his hands trembled. 

“ Nonsense !” Beryl said, coolly, “ the stakes have run 
too high already, Mr. Gresham; not a cent above twenty 
pounds.” 

“ It wasn’t my doing,” exclaimed Gresham, eagerly, 
“ on my honor — ” 

“ It was every one’s doing,” interrupted Beryl. 
“ Twenty pounds, Mr. Vining,” turning to the young 
officer, “ and I wish. good luck to your cards.” 

4 4 Then my fortunes will surely turn,” said he, with a 
flush of pleasure in his eyes; but Gresham’s brow con- 
tracted slightly. Beryl lingered near the table, watching 
the progress of the game, and certainly Yining’s luck 
turned; he won the next trick and swept up all the stakes. 

“Ah! Miss Carolan!” said Gresham, bending toward 
her, “ wish me luck next time!” 

“No,” she retorted, carelessly, “ you have had your 
share of luck this evening. ” 

Miss Carolan moved away into the drawing-room and 
there she threw herself down on a lounge in a shaded corner, 
glad to be, though only for a few moments, out of the 
hateful glare, the hateful atmosphere. She knew her peace 
would be short-lived; yet it was a breathing space. She 
was so heart-sick, so brain- weary; she who ruled here a 
queen, a most miserable queen indeed, who would have 
yielded her crown with ineffable joy, only to win peace, to 
gain one month of real happiness. 

So soon? Was some one already coming to disturb her? 
She turned her head, and her heart began beating in quick, 
wild throbs; it was the tall figure of Yere Lorraine she 
saw advancing toward her. As he came near, she raised 
her eyes fleetingly to his face, and perhaps he read in 
them that he was not unwelcome. He paused, bending 
down. 

“ May I?” he said, smiling, “ or do you wish to be 
alone?” 

“ No,” she said; “ are you weary, then, already of the 
cards?” 

“ Cards have no attraction for me,” returned Lorraine, 
taking the vacant place beside her; “ and if they had — ” 

“ If they had,” interposed Beryl, “ you would prefer my 


64 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

society— that is the only thing yon could say under the cir- 
cumstances, isn’t it?” 

“ And your interpretation of my words the only one. 
Miss Caroian?” 

“ How do you mean?” she asked, a little puzzled. 

“ That you credit me with mere idle compliment. ” 

“ I understand. I must not play a game of foils with 
you. I might have known that.” She hesitated a mo- 
ment; then added in a lower tone: “.Will you forgive me?” 

“ When I discover the offense.” 

“ You are not offended, then? That is generous; but I 
am offended with myself. I ought to spare you my bitter 
mood. I owe you so much.” 

44 You will offend, or, rather, wound me, if you say 
that,” said Lorraine, earnestly. 

44 Yes; but let me have the luxury of gratitude — it is so 
rarely that I have had cause for it; but I will try to keep 
it to myself henceforth. Now tell me, have you seen Enid 
Roden lately?” 

44 1 saw her last week. She told me then — ” 

He paused. 

44 Go on,” Beryl said, quietly. 44 She told you — ” 

44 That she had twice written to you, Miss Carol an, and 
you had not replied. She seemed deeply grieved.” 

44 And you tell me this — why?” said Beryl, 

44 Because it would make Enid happier if you wrote to 
her, even if she may not see you.” 

44 Make her happier!” repeated Beryl, slowly, with a 
glance toward the other room that lent the bitterest signifi- 
cance to her words. 44 You are a man of the world, and 
you knovTthat friendship between Enid Roden and me is 
impossible now. Would it be even honest in me to write 
to her — a strange argument, perhaps, from my lips — ” 

Lorraine interrupted her, bending forward, speaking 
almost sternly: 

44 In my turn,” he said, 44 let me ask a question: 4 A 
strange argument 9 — why?” 

44 You ask that?” said the girl, flushing suddenly. 

44 Yes,” said Lorraine in the same manner, 44 / ask it; 
will you answer it?” 

44 You know the answer.” 

44 Miss Carolan, this is the second time you have read 
my mind — and a second time you have read it wrongly.” 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 65 

“ What do you mean?” said the girl, under her breath. 

Her heart seemed to-be beating in her throat. 

f< Answer mv question, please. ” 

It was almost like a command. Beryl’s bosom heaved; 
she turned her face aside. - 

“ You know,” she said, her voice sinking to a whisper, 
“ that I am guilty!” 

She started and caught her breath as Lorraine’s hand 
was laid abruptly on hers. 

“ I know,” he said, “ that you are not guilty!” 

A minute’s dead silence; the flush had died from Beryl’s 
face now; all the blood in her body seemed to have gone to 
. her heart. She did not move — she hardly breathed; every 
power of her being was gathered into one focus — she was 
deaf, blind, stunned. He believed her innocent. Vere 
Lorraine knew she was not guilty. 

At last, slowly, a pause between each word, she spoke: 

“ You — can not — know — me — guiltless. I have — not — 
denied.” 

“ Nor have you confessed. You need have no fear; I 
know nothing, in the sense of knowledge founded upon 
facts; but remember that my training, and my nature also, 
have taught me to look at many things beside direct evi- 
dence; to judge people from various standpoints.” 

“ No one else thinks as you do, Mr. Lorraine.” 

“ The - opinion of the whole world could not shake mine, 
once formed. For my own sake, however little you may 
value my belief, I want you to know this, that I hold you 
guiltless of actual crime.” 

“ Guiltless of actual crime!” The words did not seem 
her own; they dropped slowly from her bloodless lips; 
then a pause, and then, not turning or looking toward 
him, the girl stretched out her hand to him. “ Mr. Lor- 
raine,” she said, 4 4 thank you!” 

Closely, very closely, Lorraine clasped the girl’s hand in 
his, and suddenly. bending his head, pressed his lips upon it. 

Was that kiss only an earnest of faith and friendship, of 
the blessed truth that one man at least believed in the 
woman the whole world condemned? Was it not more also? 
Did not Vere Lorraine feel some deep and subtle sym- 
pathy? Had she not drawn him here to-night? Had not 
the desire to see her again grown with every day that 
lengthened the distance of time between them; strength- 


66 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


ened with every effort of the iron will to master it, till he 
obeyed it as a blind man obeys his guide — and came? He 
had courted fate, and fate is no fickle mistress. If not the 
rose, yet near the rose; if not passion that throbbed in 
Vere Lorriane’s pulses now, yet perilously near it — for 
him, and, perchance, for her. 

He did not remain much longer to-night; several of 
the men came in from the card-room, and he and Beryl 
were no longer alone; but when he was taking leave, he 
said to her in a low tone : 

“ I hope you will let me come again soon?” 

“ We shall be always pleased to see you, Mr. Lorraine.” 

It was said almost coldly; but perhaps he divined the 
girl’s motive; anyhow, he only said in his heart: 

“ I will come soon; I must come soon!” 

Alone in her chamber, half kneeling, half crouching on 
the floor, Beryl was whispering that night with white lips, 
her hands pressed tightly over her heart: 

“ He does not believe me guilty. All the earth, the 
sky, the whole universe, is ringing with the glad tidings. 
And he comes here for my sake. Oh, if I could have said 
to him to-night, ‘ Come no more — for your own peace, 
come no more!’ But how was that possible? Ah!” — now 
her face was bowed down in her hands — 5 ‘ why does that 
kiss burn into my heart — burn like living fire? Does he — 
no, no; I am mad! Oh, Mary, mother, have pity on him! 
Save him from the misery of loving me!” 


CHAPTER X. 

THE NEW PRIEST. — THE FIRST SITTING. 

Emilie Gresham’s brougham stopped in front of the 
Rodens’ house in Kensington Gore, and its pretty owner 
alighted and ran up to the door. A minute later she was 
in the drawing-room, and in May Roden’s embrace. 

“You dear, good, punctual creature!” cried the latter. 
“ It is so kind of you to come with me!” 

“ Not at all; it’s a great pleasure. And, mind, I sha’n’t 
go to sleep and leave you free to flirt with Mr. Hazle- 
mere.” 

“ I have no such intention, ma’am — though he’s very 
good-looking and nice, isn’t he?” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 67 

44 Very nice; he must be, since he’s such a friend of 
Vere’s,” said Emilie. 

44 You adore Mr. Lorraine, Emmie?” 

44 I think I do; he’s worth it. Now, let me look at you. 
Yes, charming!” twisting the girl round and regarding her 
with head on one side. 44 Hazlemere ought to like that 
gown. Did he tell you what he wanted?” 

44 He told me to wear amber, with a terra-cotta red sash 
draped across it, and so I have obeyed him.” 

44 Quite right. Come on, or we shall be late. I am 
going to ask you a favor on the way.” 

44 It is granted, Emmie.” 

44 Don’t say that yet.” 

The two ladies descended to the carriage. Mrs. Gresham 
gave the order, and they drove off. 

44 And now for your favor?” said May. 

44 Well, it’s this. May. You know that for some time I 
have been helping St. Eans wythe’s Mission, in the East 
End — Paradise Lane — ” 

44 Like the good little soul you are! Yes?” 

4 4 Don’t say that. There’s a new priest now, you 
know?” 

44 Is there? Since how long? Is Mr v 'Dempster dead?” 

44 No; the work knocked him up. He was never strong. 
He had to take a country curacy. Our new priest came a 
fortnight ago, and he is just the man for the work — about 
forty-five, I suppose, and wonderfully energetic. Such a 
nice man! It is astonishing the way he has made with the 
people already.” 

44 What is his name?” asked May. 

44 Harrington — Bernard Harrington. He has been a 
great deal in Australia, so he is just fitted for the many- 
sided life of the East End. He talks like an 4 old shell- 
back,’ as he calls it, to the sailors. He is a man of the 
world, and yet as ascetic as a monk, and never seems to 
think of himself at all. He is a doctor, too!” 

44 A doctor?” cried May. 

44 Yes; he studied, and actually practiced as a surgeon, 
and then he entered the priesthood, and went out to 
Australia to a mission station.” 

44 He had what you call a 4 vocation,’ ” said May. 

Emilie nodded. 

44 Yes,” she said. 44 Now we want to give a series of 


68 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


entertainments to the poor people. Mr. Dempster hardly | 
did enough in that wav. Will you help us at one or two 
of them with some songs? It would be a real favor; for 
of course all such help must come from the West End, 
and sometimes it is so difficult to get.” 

“ Of course 1 11 help you with all my heart, Emmie, 
and be delighted. Perhaps Enid would come too?” 

“Oh! May, thanks so much; but Enid? She is not 
very strong/and your mother might fancy it -was not safe 
for her to go to the East End; you know the notions some 
West End people have that typhus and small-pox are 
always walking about in those parts. ” J 

May laughed. 

“ Well,” she said, “ Ell feel my ground; but they 
wouldn’t mind my going; and as for the church, papa will 
grumble and talk about Emilie Gresham’s ritualistic 
proclivities, but he doesn’t know anything about it, and I 
can alwa} r s get my own way with him.” 

“ Then we can meet in a day or two,” said Emilie, “ and 
arrange about dates, and so forth.” 

“ I wish,” May added, a sorrowful shade falling on her 
bright face, “ Beryl Cardan had been available; lam sure 
she would have helped you, and she sings divinely; she was 
professionally trained.” 

“ She would indeed have been an acquisition,” replied 
Mrs. Gresham; “ but, of course, that is impossible now, 
and I don’t even know her.” 

“ And if you did she would not go,” said May; “ she is 
very proud. Enid has twice written to her, and she has 
not even replied.” 

“ But, mv dear May, Enid could not be friends with her 
now. The menage in Hanover Street is a very queer one; ; 
all sorts of things are said of Beryl Oarolan.” 

“So I have heard; but Enid won’t believe anything 
against Beryl.” 

“ Dear loyal Enid! She knows so little of the world; I 
am not very wise, still, Enid must know that she and Miss \ 
Carolan are now on different planes.” 

“ I don’t think she wanted to see Beryl, only to 'hear 
from her. Papa, of course, would be terribly angry if he 
knew she had written; lie is so bitter against Beryl.” 

Emilie leaned back in silence for a minute or two; then 
she said, rather abruptly; 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


69 


44 When did you last see Vere?” 

4 4 A fortnight ago— on Sunday— he dined with us. 
Why?” 

44 Oh, nothing.” 

44 Which always means something, Emmie — what is it?” 

44 You can guess, can’t you. May?” said Mrs. Gresham, 
bending forward. 

44 Yes,” replied the girl, slowly — 44 about Enid, you 
mean?” 

Emilie nodded. 

44 Do you think she is getting to care for him, May?” 

44 1 am afraid so, but I don’t believe it’s any use. He 
would come more often if he liked her — in that way, I 
mean— and he treats her just as he does me.” 

Emilie recalled what Lorraine had said of Enid. 

44 How perverse men and women are!” she said. 44 As 
for Vere, I have often wondered if he was in love with 
some one years ago, and hasn’t got over it. You’d never 
find out; he’s as secret as the grave.” 

The stopping of the carriage before the house where 
Hazlemere lodged, in Mel bury Road, prevented a rejoinder 
from May. The two ladies alighted, and were shown up 
to Hazlemere’s studio. 

The artist, attired in the professional velveteen coat, 
received them in his usual warm, frank manner. Emilie, 
of course, he already knew intimately, and he felt pretty 
well at home with May. He was not much troubled with 
shyness or conventionality, and Mary Roden was the kind 
of girl with whom friendly relations are quickly established. 

44 Ah!” Ilazlemere said, when she had removed her 
mantle, 44 that is just right — a lovely color. Would you 
allow me — or perhaps Mrs. Gresham can do what I want.” 

44 What is that?” asked Emilie, turning round from a 
half-finished landscape which she had been contemplating. 

44 The sash,” said Hazlemere; 44 it is tied a little tco 
high.” 

Emilie unfastened it and tied it lower. 

44 How is that?” she asked. 

44 That will do — thanks. Quite loose, please. Now, 
Miss Roden, shall we start?” 

May was posed, Emilie seated herself, and Hazlemere 
addressed May. 

44 1 don’t want you to look fixed, you know,” he said. 


70 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

(i I would much rather you talked. Besides, this morning 
I shall not be able to do more than get over preliminaries.” 

“ I’m so glad I may talk,” said May, “ for I am rather 
a chatter-box. ” 

Hazlemere laughed. 

44 That is no fault, I fancy,” said he. 

“ A word for yourself, Mr. Hazlemere,” exclaimed 
Emilie, 44 since you are rather a chatter-box.” 

“How, I call that cruel,” said he, sketching away 
vigorously. “ But why don’t you stop me if I talk too 
much?” 

“ Because I like to hear you talk, and have a fellow- 
feeling. Yere calls me a chatter-box.” 

Yere ought to be ashamed of himself.” 

“ Hot a bit of it! I don’t look upon him as a cousin, 
but as a brother— only brothers are seldom a thousandth 
part as good.” 

“ True enough,” observed Hazlemere. 44 He has been 
more than a brother to me. By the way, he told me last 
night something about dropping in at your house this even- 
ing, on the chance of finding you in.” 

44 1 shall be at home; I have some people dining with 
me. Young Charlie Welby is one of them.” 

44 Ah! I met him too last night. ” 

44 At Lorraine’s?” 

44 Oh, no; in Hanover Street — at Justin Harwood’s 
house.” 

44 Yere was there?” asked Emilie. 

44 Went with me,” returned Hazlemere, his eyes on the 
easel, and not the least idea that he had said anything 
which might best have been left unsaid. 

44 Lorraine at Harwood’s!” said Emilie to herself, in a 
kind of dismay. 

Was he, then, after all becoming fascinated with his too 
beautiful client? Lorraine was the last man to go any- 
where for the sake of play. Beryl Carolan, and Beryl only, 
could be the attraction. 

And May thought of Enid; Beryl would be a terrible 
rival. Lorraine, surely, could not marry her; but that 
need not save him from giving his love to her; and she 
was one of those women for whom men fling aside every- 
thing — home, friends, career. Alas! for Enid; and alas! 
too, for Yere Lorraine, if he should give his heart, perhaps 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


71 


even his honor, into the keeping of this woman, whose 
past life was a mystery, whose name was not free from 
taint. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A REQUEST. 

“ Halloo, Lorraine! whither away?” exclaimed Ulric 
Hazlemere, meeting his friend on Sunday afternoon in 
Saville Row. 

“ To Hanover Street,” returned Lorraine, as they shook 
hands. 44 Were you coming to my diggings?” 

Yes. ” 

“ Well, then, turn back and call with me.” 

But Hazlemere shook his head. 

44 No,” he said; 44 I’ll walk part of the way with you, 
but I won’t go in.” 

They walked on. Lorraine glanced in the artist’s face, 
and asked: 

44 Is anything wrong, Hazlemere? Why not come in?” 

The other flushed slightly. 

44 I’ll be frank with you, Lorraine,” he said. 44 1 am 
getting rather afraid of going there.” 

44 Afraid of the cards, Hazlemere, or of Beryl Carolan?” 

44 The last; and I have sense enough to keep out of the 
way. I mean to try it, at any rate. That girl would 
fascinate an anchorite; and, of course, it would be mad- 
ness to get thinking too much of her.” 

Lorraine set his teeth. Madness — yes! No man could 
dream of marrying Beryl Carolan! He said, quietly: 

44 You are wise, Hazlemere.” 

Though he was not looking at the artist, he caught and 
read the quick look Hazlemere gave, and he smiled. 

44 4 Physician, heal thyself,’ ” he said. 44 Is that it, 
Hazlemere?” 

44 Lorraine, forgive me.” 

44 There is no cause. Say on what is in your heart to 
say, Ulric.” 

44 You won’t be offended? — no, I don’t mean that. You 
know what I do mean.” 

44 Yes. Well?” 

44 Why, I wish you’d haul off, Lorraine, that’s all about 
it. One can’t just flirt with a woman like that. You find 


72 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


yourself in love with her before you know where you are, 
and you 9 re not a man to play with fire/’ 

“ Ho?” 

“ You know it yourself, Lorraine. You are a slumber- 
ing volcano. Your love would be what few men’s love is — 
an integral part of life.” 

“ Ay, you are right, Hazleinere — right in all you say — 
right in warning me. I wish I could follow your counsel.” 

“ Lorraine, for Heaven’s sake — ” 

“Ho more, Ulric, it would be no use. 1 have a strong 
will, you say — a will that brooks no obstacles — a will that 
once set. as you sometimes say to me, is set like a flint. 
Well, the will is wanting here, or it is set the wrong way.” 

Pale though the speaker always was, Hazlemere, looking 
in his face now, saw that it was deathly white. For a 
minute the artist was silent, too startled, too pained and 
bewildered to speak; then he said, slowly: 

“ I understand. It’s no use, but I wish to Heaven you 
had never met that girl!” 

“ I sometimes wish it, Ulric. But — ” they had nearly 
reached Harwood’s house now. Lorraine paused. 
“Blame me,” he w T ent on, “as I deserve. Judge me 
fool, madman, or villain, but she is blameless. Don’t 
judge her, Ulric.” 

Their hands met. 

“Ho need, Lorraine,” said the younger man, “for 
Beryl Carolan to try to win a man. She can not help it. 
Good-bye!” 

He turned away. His heart w r as full — he felt choking. 
Where would it end if Vere Lorraine gave his heart to this 
woman, whom to marry would be almost social efface- 
ment? Where could it end, unless she were strong enough 
to withstand temptation? Would Lorraine, then, give 
her his name? Could that blot out the prisoner’s dock 
and the gambler’s salon ? 

“ If I were so mad!” groaned Hazlemere. “Iam only 
a struggling artist — a nobody; but Lorraine has everything 
to lose; he has noble birth, high connection, high standing 
in his profession and in society. Will he fling away every- 
thing for a woman’s sake? l T et this woman — I used to 
wonder at the siege of Troy. I think 1 can understand it 
now.” 

Meanwhile, Lorraine had asked for Miss Carolan, and 


SUTLER OR VICTIM? 


73 


had been told that she was at home, and he was shown into 
the drawing-room, where were Harwood, and Beryl, and 
two callers — Malleson the author, and a young French 
actor. Beryl gave her hand with a smile to the new- 
comer, and after introducing the Frenchman as Monsieur 
Marceau, she intimated to Lorraine a chair near her own, 
adding: 

“ Monsieur Marceau speaks very little English, Mr. Lor- 
raine, but you, I know, are as good a Frenchman as he is, 
so there will be no difficulty, and you can take lessons, Mr. 
Malleson.” 

“ I have had some already,” said Malleson. ‘ ‘ One 
would think you were a Parisenne to hear you talk, Miss 
Carol an.” 

She laughed. 

“ I am a cosmopolitan,” she said; “ no country is mine.” 

“ I think you have been everywhere,” said Marceau. 

“ That's true,” said Harwood, who, as usual, reclined 
on a sofa. He spoke French fluently, but with an indiffer- 
ent accent. “ It would be easier to count the omissions.” 

‘‘What are they?” said Malleson. 

“ Asia and Australia.” 

“ But you have been in Australia, Mr. Harwood?” said 
Lorraine. 

Harwood shook his head. 

“No,” he said; “never. What makes you think so? 
Do I look like a ‘corn-stalk'?” laughing, for he was of 
stalwart and robust frame. 

“ Certainly not,” returned Lorraine. “ It was nothing 
in your appearance gave me the impression.” 

“ What then? Don't be afraid of giving offense. I'm 
not very thin-skinned.” 

“ I shouldn't imagine you were,” said Lorraine, in- 
wardly; but aloud: “It was an intonation — a pronuncia- 
tion now and then, that sounds Australian.” 

“Add,” said Harwood, “what you are too polite to 
add — some roughness — brusquerie — want of polish, eh? 
But America is responsible for that, not Australia, as well as 
for the intonation and the other. How came you, though, 
to know much of corn-stalk twang? Have you been in the 
country?” 

“ Yes, years ago,” said Lorraine, carelessly. “ I -trav- 
eled through parts of Australia.” 


74 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ What an odd place to travel in,” interposed Malleson. 

“ I wanted to break new ground; I had been over all the 

old ground.” „ 

“ So you went in for kangaroos and gum-trees, said. 
Harwood, laughing. “ How did you like them?” 

“ Better than some of the people I met,” replied Lor- 

raine. . , 

“ Did not the barbarous people always show you kind- 
ness?” asked Beryl, smiling. 

Lorraine turned to her, face and voice softening at once. 

“ Generally— -yes,” he said; “ I was not speaking of the 
rule.” 

There was a touch of reserve in his manner which did 
not encourage further questions, and Beryl asked none. 
Harwood’s perceptions, however, were not sensitive. He 
said in his abrupt way : 

“ You had some disagreeable adventures, eh? Mayn’t 
we hear them?” 

“ Thanks,” said Lorraine, nonchalantly; “ but I don’t 
want to pose as an egotist.” 

“ Oh, all right!” said Harwood, with a disagreeable 
laugh, which conveyed the impression that he thought 
Lorraine’s “ adventures ” were partly of a character which 
he preferred to keep to himself. 

Beryl’s cheek flushed slightly, and there was a quick 
gleam of anger and pain in her violet eyes. Lorraine felt, 
for her sake far more than for his own, as if it would have 
been a genuine pleasure to throw J ustin Harwood out of 
the window. The man’s coarse nature disgusted him; 
every fiber of his frame was antagonistic to it; and even 
Harwood’s infirmity could not stir in him much of the pity 
which it is usually the privilege of suffering to evoke. 

The entrance of a servant created a diversion which, 
otherwise, Lorraine himself would "have brought about. 

He brought a letter for Beryl; she glanced at it care- 
lessly, and flung it on the table near her. 

“ Is that how you treat a billet-doux ?” said young Mar- 
ceau, lifting his hands. 

“It is not a billet-doux , mon cher,” returned the girl; 
“ and if it were I should treat it just the same.” 

“You frighten me.” 

Beryl raised her brows. 

“ Do you mean to say that you contemplate writing me 


SLNKER OR VICTIM? 75 

one, Anatole?" she said. “ Do, there's a good boy; it 
would be so funny!" 

“ You are very, very cruel!" exclaimed the young man, 
in mock heroics. “ Have I not already — " 

“ Written me dozens, and I have not kept one," said 
Beryl, gravely. “ Mr. Lorraine," turning to him, “ Ana- 
tole played with me once in Florence in dreadfully French- 
Italian, and I used to teach him his parts, and teased him 
as well; so we are old friend, you see." 

“Friends of the heart!" added Marceau, laying his 
hand on his heart. 

“ And therefore constantly quarreling, I suppose," ob- 
served Lorraine, with perfect gravity. 

“ Monsieur, no! Who could quarrel with mademoi- 
selle?" 

“ Silence!" said mademoiselle, “ and ring the bell," 
which Marceau did submissively. But, all the same. Beryl 
saw him glance more than once jealously at Lorraine's 
handsome face; and while the servant was bringing in the 
tea, he asked her, sotto voce , who “ ce leau Monsieur Lor- 
raine " was: “ A very distinguished aristocrat, no doubt," 
he added. 

“ Unquestionably," she answered; “he belongs to one 
of the noblest families in England." 

“ Is he often here?" 

“ Now, Anatole, I won't have any nonsense, you know, 
or I shall quarrel with you. Please to hand Mr. Malleson 
his tea, and don't frown." 

During tea conversation became general; and afterward, 
Malleson and Marceau, having other engagements, rose to 
take leave, Beryl telling the latter to come in the following 
morning to read English. 

The two men went out, and Beryl took up the letter she 
had thrown aside. 

“ Please excuse me," she said to Lorraine, and opening 
the envelope, skimmed through the letter, and put it down 
again. 

“ Whom from?" asked Harwood, “ if I may know." 

“ Oh, yes; from Gresham." 

“And what does he want?" said Harwood, glancing 
covertly at Lorraine, but obtaining no satisfaction. 

“ He has a box for the new piece at the Thespian to- 
morrow evening; he asks me to go," 


76 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


44 You'll go, of course?" 

44 No, lam not going." 

4 4 Are you engaged?" 

44 So far as Herbert Gresham is concerned, yes." 

Harwood turned aside, frowning heavily. Lorraine 
made some remark to Beryl about the new play, and 
while she answered him, Harwood raised himself, and took 
his crutches, which always stood near his couch. 

44 Won’t you stay to dinner, Mr. Lorraine?" he asked. 

44 Thanks, Mr. Harwood; but I have an engagement for 
this evening." 

44 Well, perhaps we shall see you later?" said Harwood, 
beginning to hobble toward the door. Beryl did not, by 
word or look, second the invitation. 

44 Y r ou are very kind," said Lorraine; 44 but I think 
not." 

He rose and opened the door for Harwood, who nodded 
thanks — and then Lorraine returned to Beryl; but he did 
not resume his seat; he paused by the mantel-piece, lean- 
ing his arm on it. For just one second he hesitated — per- 
haps a brief struggle with temptation; then he bent down 
a little. 

44 Miss Carolan," he said, 44 it may sound presumptuous 
to ask if you will do me the honor of accepting my escort 
to-morrow evening?" 

Beryl started; but the very intensity of feeling seemed 
to give her the greater self-mastery. Ah! what happiness 
to be with him alone for a whole evening! Why did he 
tempt her so? 

She turned her head aside a little. 

44 No, it is not presumptuous," she said. 44 Thank you 
very, very much; but will you allow me to decline?" 

44 Not if I can persuade you to accept, Miss Carolan." 

She went with others, why not with him? It could not 
be that she trusted him less. 

He made a step forward and took the vacant place by 
her side. She was sitting on a lounge now. 

44 It is selfish, I know," he said, softly, 44 to urge my 
request, since I am pleading for my own happiness; but 
will you not change 4 no ' to 4 yes ’?" 

Poor Beryl! her heart throbbing, every nerve trembling, 
temptation so overwhelming held before her, and only a 
moment of time to choose right or wrong. 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 77 

44 The woman who hesitates is lost.” Beryl hesitated, 
and yielded. 

44 I suppose,” she said, smiling a little, 44 that, since you 
are so kind, I must say 4 yes/ ” 

44 A thousand thanks! The kindness is all yours. 
When shall 1 call for you?” 

44 Will you not dine with us at seven? That will give us 
enough time, 1 think.” 

44 Quite enough. I shall be very happ}^. ” He rose as 
he spoke. 44 And now,” he added, 4 ‘ I must take my 
leave. Au revoir.” 

She gave him her hand. How her touch made all his 
pulses bound! How closely — though only for a moment — 
his clasp infolded that little hand! Then once more 
44 Adieu,” and Beryl was alone again. 

She would not suffer herself to think now. 44 Wrong! 
wrong!” her conscience whispered; but she would not 
heed it. 

She rose quickly, and in feverish haste wrote a few lines 
to Gresham. She could not go with him to-morrow even- 
ing, she said; she was engaged. She was vexed and angry 
with him for asking her, and so would not in any way 
soften her refusal. She did not choose to be seen with 
him. He was the husband of the woman who was as dear 
to Vere Lorraine as a sister. Emilie Gresham should have 
no stab from the hand of Beryl Cardan. 

And Vere Lorraine? Was he walking blindly, not see- 
ing into the future? or was he half willfully, half uncon- 
sciously, putting it from him? Was the past a clear 
record? Were there no doubts, no fears, 44 no questions, 
and no replies?” 

44 A dream!” 'he said to himself, as he sat alone that 
night, and strove, but strove in vain, to pierce the shadows 
that clouded memory. 44 Oh, what would I not give to 
know the truth! There is ever a specter by my side, 
whose presence I feel while I can not discern its shape. 
By Heaven, I ivill be free!” 

He rose, pressing his hand over his eyes, as if he would 
shut out some horrible vision; then he sunk into the chair 
again. 

44 What can the end be?” was the question the brain 
asked, and the heart could not answer. 44 1 can not fly 
from this temptation,” the white lips whispered. 44 1 


78 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


sought it. It has entered in and taken possession. I am 
master no more, but servant. To know that she will be 
with me to-morrow is to know so much of heaven. To 
dream that her heart beats faster when I am near, that her 
spirit is with me when I am absent from her, is very 
ecstasy; and yet — and yet— No! it is too late — too late 
to draw back now. Was there ever a time since I first 
saw you, Beryl, when it was not too late to draw back?” 


CHAPTER XII. 

AT THE THESPIAN. 

The first nights at the Thespian were always brilliantly 
attended, and there had been a great deal of preliminary 
interest in the new play, which was written by two famous 
collaborateurs. 

So, when Harwood’s well-appointed brougham drove up 
to the box entrance of the theater, there was a long line of 
carriages extending into the remote distance, and beyond 
that yet another line of cabs, while round the portico clus- 
tered the usual ragamuffin crowd, to see “ the swells ” go 
in. 

In such an assemblage there were sure to be numbers 
who knew Lorraine, and whom he knew; numbers who 
knew him, and who didn’t know; while almost all would 
know Beryl Carolan by sight, and not a few had met her 
in society. Of these, the men she chanced to meet bowed 
or shook hands; the women, of course, ignored her; but, 
whatever she suffered, she gave no sign. She had grown 
used to the change, perhaps. One grows used even to 
dagger- thrusts. 

Lorraine had secured a box on the first tier, second from 
the stage, and therefore in the best position; and the mo- 
ment Beryl Carolan appeared, every glass, whose owners 
could see the box, was leveled at her. 

Certainly no woman “ in front ” that night could com- 
pare with her; and her plush robe, of that wonderful hue 
called “ looking-glass,” was peculiarly suited, so every one 
said, to the red-gold hair and pale, pure complexion. 

“ Who is with her?” people asked one another. 

“ They are well matched,” said one. “ What a hand- 
some fellow! Who ;s he?” 


\ SINKER OR VICTIM? 79 

And the man of whom the question was asked uttered a 
low whistle, then laughed. 

44 That’s Vere Lorraine,” he said — 44 her counsel in the 
diamond case.” 

4 4 Js it? Is he,. then — ” 

4 4 Oh, I don’t know. They say that Beryl Carolan is 
unapproachable. ” 

44 Then Lorraine had best take care,” observed the first 
speaker, 44 for that girl could make a fool of any man; she 
is just bewildering. ” 

Beryl did not seem affected by the scrutiny to which she 
was subjected. To be stared at had been her daily bread 
all her life, and since her trial she had become accustomed 
to the knowledge that there was an added piquancy to her 
position; but if she diad not become callous, she had, at 
least, to some extent, become case-hardened, though to- 
night the fire of countless eyes seemed to burn her, as they 
had that day in the court. 

Was it because Vere Lorraine was with her, and he was 
to her what no other man was? 

And yet the happiness of being by his side, though so 
full of pain, was greater than all pain. If only the suffer- 
ing could have been quite banished— if only for just this 
evening — for these two hours, she could hare put away 
past and future, and lived only in the present — in the 
golden haze of that happiness which, on earth, has no 
parallel. 

She leaned back, scanning the house, and almost imme- 
diately she was bowing to Bowcliffe, Malleson, and Lord 
Charles Welby, and several others in the stalls, then to one 
of a group in an opposite box; but she drew in her breath 
with a quick, sharp pain at her heart as she saw, in the 
next box, Mrs. Roden, Enid, May, and a lady she did not 
know, who, the next moment bowed, or, rather, nodded, 
and smiled at Lorraine. Enid’s face Beryl could not see; 
the girl sat half behind the curtain. 

44 There is my cousin, Emmie Gresham,” said Lorraine, 
in explanation, and returning the bows of Mrs. Roden and 
May; the former had not been quite sure about 44 seeing ” 
him, under the circumstances, as Lorraine perfectly well 
perceived. 

Beryl gazed a moment keenly, though covertly, at 
Emmie’s features; then she said, slowly: 


80 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


44 I like her face very, very much.” 

44 1 am so glad to hear you say that,” said Lorraine, ear- 
nestly, 44 for Emmie could not be dearer to me if she had 
been my born sister.” : — 

It flashed across the girl bitterly, 44 What can miy good 
opinion be worth?” but she only remarked: 

44 She is very good, isn’t she? She goes among the poor, 
I mean?” 

44 Not as a visiting lady,” said Lorraine, smiling a little. 
44 Emmie is very much interested in a mission in the East 
End; she gets up concerts and entertainments for the peo- 
ple, and sings for them, and so on. I met the priest — a 
new-comer — at her house on Thursday evening, and she 
has enlisted May Roden in the service now.” 

44 Has she tried to enlist j 7 ou, too?” 

44 No.” Lorraine laughed. 44 Emmie knows me too 
well. The priest, Mr. Harrington, made an effort.” 

44 Mr. Harrington!” repeated Beryl, after a second’s 
pause. 

44 Yes; do you know the name?” 

44 1 have known more than one Harrington, but they 
were not priests; they might have had clerical relations. 
What is this man’s Christian name?” 

44 Bernard. I fancied his face was not wholly un- 
familiar; but I don't think I ever came across him; per- 
haps in Sydney — he has been there, he told me.” 

44 In Sydney? Ah! then he is a colonial?” said Beryl. 

44 He was some years in Australia; but he only men- 
tioned Sydney particularly. I like the man very" much; 
he seems quite an ideal priest — a man of the world — but 
not a worldly man; out and out High Church, as some 
people call it, of course.” 

44 But so are you, are you not?” asked Beryl. 

44 1 was brought up so — I never knew anything else,” 
said Lorraine. 

44 1 was never 4 brought up ’ at all,” was on Beryl’s lips, 
but did not pass them; but the bitter thought must have 
flashed unbidden into her eyes, for she felt, she scarcely 
knew how, for there was no change in Lorraine’s face, that 
he was deeply pained. If, however, lie had meant to say 
anything, the ringing of the call-bell either-prevented him, 
or saved him the necessity, as the case might be. 

Just as the curtain was going up, the door of the box 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


81 


B ^ ^ 

next to Lorraine’s was opened, and a party of three or 
four persons entered. Beryl caught the voice of one of 
the men, and inwardly started. It was Herbert Gresham 
who spoke. Lorraine heard also, and must, of course, 
have recognized the voice, but he kept his eyes fixed for a 
moment on the pretty rural scene disclosed, which was 
being vigorously applauded in front; then he glanced across 
at Emmie. She had drawn back, so that her face was 
partly in shadow; but her cousin’s keen vision told him 
that she was agitated, though she bore herself bravely; and 
Lorraine set his teeth hard, while Beryl thought: 

“ If I had been with Gresham, what would his wife have 
thought of me? She must misjudge me now; but at least 
I do her no wrong. And Enid? She will not love me any 
more; poor Enid! Am I cruel to her? More cruel to 
him — far, far more cruel to him!” 

It was fully twenty minutes before she knew what v r as 
going forward on the stage. Figures moved about and 
spoke, but vvhat they said or did she did not know; then, 
with an effort, she forced herself to attend, and quickly 
picked up the thread of the story. By and by Lorraine 
turned to her with some remark about one of the per- 
formers, and his look in her face, though brief, was, she 
saw, very searching. 

She half smiled. 

44 It opens well,” she said, 4i ' and seems to give promise 
of a story not quite hackneyed.” 

4 4 Yes; by the way, though, that expression used by the 
American— Dash ford — is not an Americanism.” 

4 4 He is supposed to be a ranchman,” said Beryl, draw- 
ing, in her breath silently. 

But what he said was bushranger’s argot — Australian — 
not Californian,” replied Lorraine. 

44 Is it? I did not know.” 

Had Lorraine made that remark by design? she asked 
herself. She remembered what he had said yesterday of 
Justin Harwood^- an expression, an intonation, that 
sounded Australian. Had he accepted Harwood’s expla- 
nation mentally? He had not verbally; and now the 
distinction he had pointed out seemed to lend further sig- 
nificance to his observation of the previous day.. Did he 
not believe Harwood’s disclaimer of ever having been in 
Australia? 


82 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


Beryl felt sure that Lorraine disliked Harwood, and 
equally sure that he would not believe a word uttered hy 
that gentleman, if there was any conceivable reason why 
the latter should be stating an untruth. But she was con- 
tent for the present, to let the matter rest, and seem, 
whether she was so or not, interested in the play. 

The act-drop fell, and then the tide of talk began to 
flow, and friends made their wav to each other’s boxes and 
stalls and exchanged greetings and comments on the new 
piece. 

44 Who’s in the box next to us?” said Gresham’s voice, 
distinctly heard in the said box; 44 everybody’s staring 
at it.” 

Some one tried, evidently, to look round the corner, for 
the answer came after a moment’s pause: 

44 I can’t see — some celebrity, that’s clear. There’s 
Dixon in the stalls — I’ll beckon him up — he’ll know.” 

44 There are some things about Herbert Gresham,” said 
Beryl, 44 that makes one feel he is not wholly bad — some- 
times I like him — sometimes just the opposite.” 

44 And you disliked him yesterday?” said Lorraine. 
44 Was that it?” 

44 Oh, no!” the girl answered, quietly. 44 1 have only 
once been anywhere with him — that was to a matinee . I 
have always refused since; but he does not, or will not 
understand me.” 

Lorraine set his teeth hard. 

44 Miss Carolan,” he said, when he could be sure of not 
betraying too much in his voice, 44 has Gresham dared — ” 

44 To insult me?” put in Beryl, in the same quiet man- 
ner; 44 if he had done so, would it be fair to blame him? 
No— it is not that; but — perhaps I should not say what I 
am going to say; yet I am sure you will make allowance 
for me.” 

44 1 am sure,” he said, softly, 44 that you can stand in no 
need of such allowance, Miss Carolan." I hope you will 
treat me always as a true friend.” 

Beryl turned her head aside; the beating of her heart 
almost choked her. She had made up her mind to say to 
Lorraine to-night, 44 Come to this house no more,” and 
now the resolution faltered — died. 

Friend! Yes, he was the only one who, if there was 


\ SIGNER OR VICTIM? 83 

passion in his heart, was stili friend also — the only one she 
could trust — the only one who believed her guiltless. 

“ Thank you,” she said in a low tone. “ Then I will 
speak. I want your cousin to know that, though I can 
not prevent her husband from coming to Hanover Street, 
I do not encourage him; but I have tried to make him 
keep away — in vain. I don’t ask her to think better of 
me than I seem to deserve, but only this — that Mr. 
Gresham holds no higher place in my thoughts than any 
other of the men who profess to worship me.” 

“ 1 understand,” said Lorraine, gently; “ and I will tell 
Emmie this. You thanked me; let me rather thank you 
for your confidence in me.” 

Beryl shook her head. 

“ I can not help that,” she said, with a naivete that, 
though it might, in one sense, sound strange from her 
lips, was yet not out of keeping — at least, so Lorraine 
thought; though many men would have been surprised, or 
imagined the girl was coquetting. 

A slight Hush crossed the man’s dark cheek, and for a 
second his lips quivered. Did Beryl know all that frank 
confession meant for him? He turned toward her — his 
face was in the shadow of the curtain, and the impulsive 
words passed his lips before the thought came to check 
them. 

“ I will never fail you,” he said. 

Beryl dared not meet his eyes in that moment, and she 
could not speak. Amid the tempest of wild joy that filled 
her heart, and made her deaf to all but the voice — the 
words — that said so much, was the deadly fear that she 
had done irrevocable wrong; that she had played too long 
with temptation. 

Too long! It was scarcely more than the other day that 
Vere Lorraine had come to Hanover Street; was it already 
too late to bid him look to his own peace? 

“ Why did I come with him to-night?” was the ques- 
tion; to which came the reply, “You let your heart 
conquer; you let him conquer, because you love him, and 
you know that you are at least nearer his heart than any 
other living woman.” 

Was it indeed too late to draw back? 

Lorraine, perhaps misinterpreting her silence, bent for* 
ward a little. 


84 


SIHHER OR VICTIM? 


44 You are not offended with me?” he said, with that 
wonderful softness in his musical voice that more betrays 
a man’s heart than even his eyes. 

44 Oh, no, not offended,” said Beryl, hurriedly; every 
nerve in her frame was quivering. 44 How could you think 
that?” 

44 Forgive me. I spoke on impulse. ” 

44 And you spoke generously. See ! the curtain is rising. ” 

And in the next box Herbert Gresham was gnawing his 
lip and fuming inwardly, and outwardly too in a fashion, 
for Dixon had told him Beryl Carolan was next door to 
him, with Vere Lorraine. She had written to him, 
Gresham, in off-hand style, and come, after all — and with 
Lorraine, of all men! 

There was no more pleasure for Gresham that evening. 
There had been little at the first, for he had chafed and 
rebelled under Beryl’s refusal; but to have her in the 
house, not with him, and with another man, was gall and 
wormwood. 

Nor was the atmosphere in the Rodens’ box free from 
electricity. Mrs. Roden was deeply angry with Lorraine, 
Emmie was troubled, and poor Enid felt as if the earth 
were melting under her feet. What chance had she 
against the dazzling loveliness of Beryl Carolan? With the 
unreasoning haste of jealousy she blamed Beryl. Beryl 
would like, no doubt, to have such, a man as Vere Lorraine 
at her feet, and his happiness would count for little. 

So, for more- than one in front this evening, the play 
was not 44 the thing.” 

The curtain fell amid a storm of applause, calls for the 
artists and the authors, and Beryl rose. 

44 It is really a good play,” she said, 44 and ought to run. 
Thanks so much,” as Lorraine put the rich plush mantle 
over her shoulders, drawing it carefully round her with a 
tenderness of action and touch that was more than a man’s 
ordinary attention to a beautiful woman. 

Then he led her out and succeeded in getting the 
brougham up in a few minutes. 

44 You will come to supper, will you not?” Beryl asked, 
as they drove off. 44 There will be only Justin and, per- 
haps, a few others. No cards to-night.” 

44 1 will come in with pleasure.” 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


85 


It was a small party at supper, and, outwardly, at any 
rate, a merry one. But Lorraine, while he talked brill- 
iantly, was far from being at ease in his heart; and Beryl, 
while her laugh was brightest, cried loudest within her soul 
in pain and dread and vain longing. 

When the guests had taken their leave, and Harwood 
and Beryl were alone, the girl was burning to go to her 
room, when her uncle stopped her. 

44 Say, Beryl,” he observed, 44 Lorraine is an acquisition. 
He doesn’t come for the cards; buc, all the same, he plavs 
■ — for a footing.” 

44 1 warned you,” said Beryl, coolly, u the first night he 
came. You can’t fool him as you can the others.” 

44 Why, he’d never suspect me,” said Harwood, a little 
uneasily. 

44 He has taken your measure more accurately than you 
imagine, Justin. He doesn’t trust you one bit. He didn’t 
believe you yesterday.” 

44 You’re mighty sharp, my girl.” 

44 A good deal sharper than you, as you have often 
found. Be always on your guard with him. I wish he 
had never come here.” 

44 What d’you mean? Because he may get to know too 
much?” 

44 For every reason.” 

Her hand was on the door as she spoke. 

44 Your infernal sentimentality among others, I sup- 
pose?” said Harwood, harshly. 44 But don’t you go driv- 
ing him away; mind that!” 

44 No heroics, Justin. You know how little I care for 
them.” 

44 You’ll have to care!” muttered Harwood; 44 and if 
you snub Gresham too much — ” 

44 He won’t come here,” concluded Beryl. 44 So much 
the better.” 

44 If you break through the contract, Beryl — ” began 
Harwood, menacingly. 

44 You’U break through it,” she said, once more con- 
cluding his unfinished sentence, 44 will 3 r ou? Are you fond 
of stone cells and prison fare? You have escaped them all 
these years, but take care how you come to a close reckon- 
ing with me! You will find me as ruthless as you are 


86 


SINNEIt OR VICTIM f 


yourself, and with the power as well as the will to crush 
you!” 

And to those words Justin Harwood had no answer. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AT ST. EANSWYTHE’S. 

44 Dear Vere, — Enid and I are going to drive down to- 
morrow morning to service at St. Eanswythe’s, and after- 
ward dine at the clergy-house with Mr. Harrington. 
Please join us, there’s the dear fellow you are! Mr. Har- 
rington is very anxious to improve your acquaintance. Be 
with me by nine-thirty; and if not convenient to send 
reply to this, I will call for you en route , on the chance of 
your coming. Yours, 

“ Emmie.” 

Lorraine received this letter at his chambers on Saturday 
afternoon. He had not seen either his cousin or Enid 
since that Monday night at the Thespian; and however 
busy he was, he had always contrived to see Emmie at 
least once in a week. 

His conscience smote him. He could not, if he would, 
have refused her request. So, knowing that he should be 
detained late that night reading a heavy brief, he wrote a. 
line, promising to be in Norfolk Street at the hour named, 
and dispatched it by a junior clerk. 

44 I want, too,” he said inwardly, as he turned back to 
the brief he was reading, 4 4 to see more of this priest. 
Where have I seen his face before, or is it a mere resem- 
blance to some one else I have met?” 

At half past nine the following morning he walked into 
Emmie’s breakfast-room, and she sprung up from the 
table to greet him. 

44 How kind of you to come!” she said. 44 1 know you 
only do it to please me.” 

44 And in so doing I please myself also, Emmie, dear.” 

44 Unselfish fellow! I know you do. Sit down and have 
some breakfast.” 

44 Thanks; I have breakfasted. You know I am always 
au early bird.” 

44 Or I should never have ventured to ask you to turn up 
at nine- thirty. Catch me asking any other man I cap 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 87 

think of to do the same, even in the summer-time ! I ex- 
pect Enid here a little before ten.” 

Emmie made no allusion to the play last Monday. She 
talked mostly about the approaching “entertainment,” 
and Lorraine felt genuinely interested in it because his 
cousin was; and about ten minutes to ten Enid made her 
appearance, looking very pretty in her velvet and furs, and 
prettier still when the color rose into her cheek, as Lor- 
raine came forward to shake hands. 

“ I pressed Vere into the service,” said Emmie, laugh- 
ing — “ made him pious whether he would or not. Come; 
we must be off. The carriage is waiting, and it is a long 
drive to Paradise Street.” 

However jealous Enid might be of Beryl Carolan, how- 
ever much inclined, in Lorraine’s absence, to resent his 
apparent “ infatuation ” for the girl who now ranked 
almost as an “ adventuress,” she yielded to the fascination 
of his presence; and as he naturally, as in courtesy bound, 
talked more to her than to Emmie, Enid’s hopes began to 
rise again, and she was once more happy. 

“ He does not know, he does not imagine,” thought 
Emmie, “ that Enid is growing to like him too much; in 
fact, she’s in love with him. And, after all, if I could tell 
him — it’s best to * let well alone.’ No good ever comes of 
meddling.” 

The denizens of Paradise Street did not often see a car- 
riage, and quite a little crowd gathered around the doors of 
the iron mission church to stare at the “ kerridge ” and 
the “ West End swells,” and the windows were peopled 
with unkempt heads. A good many of the women and 
girls were in Sunday costume. This usually consisted of a 
beflounced gown of red or violet, a brilliant shawl, crossed 
over the bosom and tied behind, and a white apron. Bon- 
nets being “few and far between,” head-gear is not de 
rigueur among the ladies of the East End; but all the 
girls rejoiced in straight-combed fringes which almost cov- 
ered their eyebrows. 

Remarks more or less personal were openly uttered as 
the trio passed into the church; and Emmie’s coachman 
came in for a good deal of not ill-natured “ chaff,” which 
he received with the sublime dignity only attainable by a 
Mayfair male servant. 

The interior of the church was bright and attractive. 


88 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


Owing to Emmie’s care and her own and Lorraine’s 
mone y__for he had given to her freely, only stipulating 
that his name did not appear — the altar was richly 
appointed, the otherwise bare walls were adorned with 
sacred pictures and texts, and there were two or three 
images of saints, more artistic than images in churches 
usually are. 

The church was already so crowded — all the people being 
of the poorest class — that the new-comers only found room 
near the door; and a minute later Lorraine gave up his 
place to a coster-woman. 

The service, the congregation — far more reverent and 
devout than that of many a West End church — were an 
entirely new experience to Enid Roden, and she would have 
enjoyed it more thoroughly if she had been able to keep 
her thoughts from straying to Vere Lorraine, whose own 
thoughts often strayed also, alas! but never to pretty Enid, 
kneeling almost under his eves. 

After the service, Emmie, outside, had a little knot of 
men and women around her, and was shaking hands with 
and talking pleasantly to all and sundry, while Enid stood 
by, half amused, half wondering, and Lorraine entered 
into conversation with an old dock laborer, and set the 
children running races after pence or silver, whichever 
turned up. 

44 I am afraid, Mr. Lorraine,” said the full, clear voice 
of Mr. Harrington behind him, 44 that you are demoral- 
izing my people.” 

Lorraine turned quickly, raising his hat, and meeting the 
priest’s extended hand. 

44 Mea maxima culpa!” he said, laughing; 44 but 1 don’t 
fancy the money will do them much harm.” 

“Rut don’t you see that you are teaching the children 
cupidity? Have you the least idea that a sixpence — I saw 
you throw more than one — is a fortune to a child in these 
parts?” 

44 1 confess I never thought of that. The only reparation 
I can make is to advise those lucky sixpence-holders to 
invest their gains in sound securities.” 

Mr. Harrington laughed merrily. 

44 Trust a lawyer for getting the best of it,” he said. 
44 Ah! Mrs. Gresham.” 

Emmie introduced Enid and the speaker, and then they 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


89 


all turned toward the clergy-house, which was simply one 
of the houses in Paradise Street, thoroughly repaired and 
cleaned up, and with a cross over the door. 

The room in which dinner was presently served was only 
.partially carpeted, and furnished in the simplest fashion. 
There was a large crucifix above the mantel-piece, and 1 
some sacred pictures on the walls. Yet this room seemed ; 
home-like; and there was a splendid fire in the grate. k 

Bernard Harrington was a tall, wiry-built man of per- 
haps forty-five, though his thick black hair was already 
turning gray. His features were strongly marked, and his 
dark-brown eyes very keen, but as soft as a woman’s; the 
dark lines of his skin were due more to exposure to tropical 
suns than to nature. 

He was clean shaved, and might have posed in some 
respects for a portrait of St. Bernard, or some other old 
crusading monk, but that you could never imagine him a 
bigot. A more lovable face man never had; not one 
weak line in it — and not one hard line. 

The dinner, like the room, was very simple; but none 
of those who partook of it were given to caring about 
what they eat, and the “ feast of reason and flow of soul” 
seasons the plainest fare. 

Mr. Harrington was a delightful companion, a thor- 
oughly cultivated man, who had seen a great deal of the 
world and studied men and things, but whom experience 
had not hardened. He never obtruded the priest, but you 
could never forget that he was one. There was about him 
and all that he said and did that kind of atmosphere of a 
pure and elevated tone of thought which is like the scent 
of incense in a church, seeming to penetrate all the senses. 

By and by, conversation turning upon traveling out of 
beaten tracks, Lorraine said to the priest: 

“ Do you know that the first time I saw you your face 
struck me as not wholly strange to me.” 

“ Indeed!” said Mr. Harrington. “ Where could you 
have seen me? I had charge of a mission in Sydney about 
eight years ago; were you in Australia at the time?” 

“ No,” returned Lorraine; “ it was ten years ago that 
I visited Australia. I was in Sydney; but then my time 
was anterior to yours. Have you been in America?” 

“ I have passed through the Southern States, and I have 
been in India — Calcutta, and up country. I left Australia 


90 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


nearly seven years ago, and I came to England about a 
year ago, and worked in Liverpool until I took charge of 
this mission.” 

“ I must have seen some one like you, then,” said Lor- 
raine. “ If I had seen you yourself distinctly, I should 
have known you again; and yet, your voice sometimes 
makes me start, as if I had heard it before.” 

“ Strange! You have a good memory for voices?” 

Lorraine smiled. 

“ I don't think,” he said, “ that I ever forget a voice I 
have known. I have recognized men by their voices 
through very clever disguises.” 

“ And you think, then, that you have heard mine?” 

“ I don't know what to think. I feel that I have, and 
reason tells me I am mistaken, but something — in one 
sense stronger than reason — tells me I am not mistaken.” 

The priest smiled. 

“ Well,” he said, “ some day the mystery may be 
solved.” 

“ Like the mystery in a novel,” said Emmie, laughing. 
“ Now, look here, Mr. Harrington "—the meal was over 
now — “ you are not going to run away to the schools at 
once, are you?” 

He put his hand into his cassock and drew forth his 
watch. 

“ I can spare half an hour,” lie said, “ and I have told 
Mrs. Wardlaw to bring up coffee, in honor of my West 
End guests.” 

“ Don't you, then, indulge in that luxury?” asked 
Enid, as they gathered round the fire, Lorraine sitting next 
to Enid. 

He shook his head. 

“ I have no time for luxuries,” said he, lightly. 

“ Then we are corrupting his reverence's’ morals,” 
observed Lorraine, gravely. “ I must inveigle you to my 
chambers in Albemarle Street some day, Mr. Harrington, 
and see what further mischief I can do.” 

“ I shall be delighted to be inveigled,” replied the 
priest, “ and I don’t think there’s much danger.” 

“ Of my trying, or your yielding?” 

“ Well, I meant the first.” 

“ Thanks for your good opinion; I should have meant 
the last.” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


91 


Coffee was just then brought in, and Mrs. Wardlaw, the 
housekeeper, proved herself an adept in the making of it. 

While Mr. Harrington and Emmie discussed some details 
of the coming concert, Lorraine talked apart with Enid; 
and as he bent over the girl, and she listened to the charm 
of his soft voice, Mr. Harrington glanced more than once 
toward the two, and presently said in a low tone to Mrs. 
Gresham : 

“ Mr. Lorraine has known Miss Roden a long time?” 

“ Not very long. But why?” 

The other smiled. 

“ ‘ Remembering how I love your company,’” he 
quoted. “ Length of time is not always needed, is it?” 

“ Oh! I understand you,” said Emmie. “ Her parents 
would be delighted if he should like Enid; and. she — ” 

“ Is certainly not displeased to have him talk with her,” 
said the priest, a slight shade of anxiety crossing his face 
as he spoke. “ That is only natural; he is a most attract- 
ive man. Well, I must tear myself away. You don’t 
know what a treat it has been to me to be with cultivated 
people.” 

They all rose as he did. 

“You were awfully good,” said Emmie, “ to let us 
come; and we’ve enjoyed ourselves so much that we shall 
want to invade you again.” 

“ Pray do; you will be heartily welcome.” 

Farewells and promises of meeting again were exchanged, 
and then the visitors departed, and Mr. Harrington took 
his way to the schools; but as he walked onward, he said 
to himself : 

“ Is Vere Lorraine growing to love Enid Roden? I hope 
not; and yet there may be no reason for interference. So! 
he thinks he has seen my face — heard my voice before. 
HTn!” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A PLAIN EXPLANATION. 

“ Mr. Gresham!” said Beryl, looking up in surprise. 
It was early in the afternoon, and she was practicing some 
songs at the piano. “ Well, Andrews, ask him to come 
up.” She rose, and crossed the room to the fire-place. 
“ So!” she said to herself, “ a whole week he has kept 


92 


SIKtfEB OR VICTIM? 


away, and he- can’t keep away any longer) bat he wants 

an explanation. How absurd!'’ 

The door opened, and Herbert Gresham came m. Beryl 
held out her hand carelessly. 

44 Good-morning,” she said, coolly. 

Gresham held her hand with a grip that almost hurt 
her; his face was stor-my and troubled. 

44 You are very cruel to me,” he said, huskily. 

44 You are melodramatic,” returned the girl, coldly, and 
drawing her hand away. “ I really don’t 'understand you, 
Mr. Gresham.” 

44 You don’t understand?” he said. 44 Why, last Mon- 
day you refused my escort and accepted Lorraine’s!” 

Beryl looked at him a moment steadily. 

44 1 am free,” she said, quietly, 44 to choose my own 
companions, and free to tell you that I have given you no 
ground for assuming I have any special regard for you.” 

44 It is not that, Beryl !— forgive me,” as she interrupted 
him with a haughty gesture. 44 The name passed my lips 
unawares; but you" decline again and again to tolerate my 
society. May I not ask why? Have I not always treated 
you with respect?” 

44 You would scarcely dare to do otherwise, Mr. 
Gresham,” replied Beryl. 44 1 have refused to go any- 
where with you, and I thought that perhaps you would un- 
derstand one at least of my reasons, and spare me the pain 
of speaking plainly. However, I will give you at least one 
reason for my refusal — you have a wife, Mr. Gresham!” 
The man started and recoiled, flushing crimson. 44 Par- 
don me,” Beryl said, her manner instantly softening; 44 but 
since you have chosen to take offense at my proceedings 
and to ask an explanation, I thought it best, for both our 
sakes, to give one.” 

44 Go on!” said Gresham, leaning his hand on the table, 
his head bent down. 

44 He is ashamed,” Beryl said, inwardly. 44 He has, at 
least, so much grace.” She went on: 44 Your wife is a 
pure-hearted, high-souled woman. I have not the honor 
to know her; she would not know me now; but I could not 
even seem to do her an injury. 1 would not have her 
think that I am in any way helping to alienate her hus- 
band from her. I will not be seen with you; it would be 
an insult to her. I have spoken frankly; forgive me if I 


SINNER OR VICTIM ? 93 

have pained you. Perhaps you did not expect such 
scruples from Beryl Carolan.” 

Gresham, turned aside; his breast heaved. Perhaps in 
that minute his better nature was striving for conquest. 
Man of the world though he was, he could not but, in his 
inmost heart, honor the woman, who respected another 
woman’s honor. But if the better feeling had not taken 
root, to bear fruit later, it yielded, for the present, to 
passions too long rampant to be easily displaced. 

Gresham strode to the door. 

“ So be it/’ he said. “I understand that a coquette 
has the right to be fickle. Good-morning.” 

“ When you apologize for those words, Mr. Gresham/’ 
said Beryl, imperturbably, “ you will set foot in this house 
again. Not before. Good-morning.” 

And the door closed upon Herbert Gresham. 


CHAPTEB XV. 

OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. 

“ Well, Hazlemere, and how does the portrait get on?” 
said Vere Lorraine, entering his friend’s studio one even- 
ing; and Hazlemere, who was sketching a suggestion of 
soine new picture, dropped his pencil, and turned eagerly 
to meet his friend. 

“Why, Lorraine!” he exclaimed. “Awfully glad to 
see you! Been slashing into the jury, eh?” 

Lorraine was leading counsel for the plaintiff in an im- 
portant libel case. 

“Yes, you see, I got the reply. Judgment to-mor- 
row. The defendant hasn’t a leg to stand upon; but the 
picture’s the thing! Let me have a look at it.” 

“ It’s over here,” said Hazlemere, leading the way, and 
turning the easel round to the light. “ Of course, the 
colors don’t show properly.” 

“ But the likeness is wonderful, mon cher. You have 
jiist caught May’s expression, and you are making of it 
what portrait-painters hardly ever produce — a picture.” 

“ Thanks, Lorraine. I know the value of your judg- 
ment, and I’m glad I’ve succeeded in pleasing you.” 

“ May is a gem!” said Lorraine, still looking thought- 
fully at the picture. 


94 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


He had no design in uttering the words; but glancing at 
Hazlemere’s face, he saw that it was flushed, and the 
painter turned aside, and was unnecessarily busy over some 
sketches in a portfolio which he seemed suddenly desirous 
of arranging. 

44 Whew!” was Lorraine’s inward comment; 44 sets the 
wind so!” Then aloud, after a pause: 44 Yes, you ought 
to make a hit with that portrait, Ulric. How often does 
your sitter come?” 

44 Twice a week.” Still over the sketches. 

44 Another fortnight, then,” said Lorraine, turning from 
the easel and laying his hand lightly on Hazlemere’s shoul- 
der, 44 and the gates of paradise will be closed.” 

Hazlemere started and winced under the gentle touch as 
if it hurt him. 

44 Lorraine!” he said under his breath. 

44 Ulric, forgive me, but do you think this is the first 
time I have suspected you? I haven’t — one way or the 
other— seen much of you lately, but last time we met you 
were distrait — there was a change in you — the old, old 
story, 4 which ever abideth new.’ ” 

44 A miserable story for me!” broke from Hazlemere, as 
he flung himself into a chair and covered his eyes. 44 1 
never thought what I was drifting into until it was too 
late.” 

44 Too late! Well?” 

Something in his tone made Hazlemere raise his head 
with a quick wonder in his eyes. 

44 What do you mean?” he asked. 

44 If May likes you—” began Lorraine. 

The artist interrupted him with impatient bitterness. 

If she did, he said 4 and why should she? How 
could I take advantage of it? I am a poor beggar of a 
painter, and she a rich man’s daughter.” 

4 Whose mother,” added Lorraine, quietly, 44 would not 
stand in the way of her daughter’s happiness, whatever the 
father might do; and Mrs. Roden is really the ruling spirit 
in that house — the wives usually are!” 

Hazlemere sprung to his feet; then sunk down again. • 
No, no, Lorraine,” he said, huskily, 44 don’t tempt 
me— don’t tempt me!” 1 

44 Am I a man to hold out delusive hopes, Ulric? Be rea- 
sonable. I know that at present your lips are sealed. It 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


95 


would be a breach of trust to take advantage of your pres- 
ent position in regard to May; but by and by you may be 
able to act more freely. The girl is not mercenary; she 
would not stop to think whether you were rich or poor. 
Don’t give up all for lost because just now she seems so 
far above you. ’ 9 

Hazlemere stretched out his right hand and clasped that 
of his friend closely, in silence, his left hand veiling his 
eyes again; the revulsion of feeling, the sudden rush of joy, 
made him for a few moments almost dizzy; but presently 
he looked up. 

“ Lorraine,” he said, “ you have given me a fresh lease 
of life!” 

The danger now was that he might hope too much; it 
was his nature to run to extremes — to be either down in 
the depths, or up on the heights; but Lorraine did not try 
to damp the hopes he had raised, even though they far 
outran his suggestions. He listened to Hazlemere’s rhap- 
sodies about May with more than patience — for patience 
only endures — but with that sympathy which makes a 
friend’s joys and sorrows one’s own, and he even outstayed 
his original intentions (yet he was going to Hanover Street 
this evening), and did not at last leave Melbury Road 
until past eleven; but he told the cabman who drove him 
into town again to go as fast as possible; and cabby, per- 
ceiving that he had a “ swell ” fare (swell including well 
off in a cabman’s vocabulary), drove at a rattling pace, 
and was rewarded, when he pulled up before the house in 
Hanover Street, with fully three times his proper fare. 

As Lorraine ascended the stairs to the drawing-room, he 
heard mingled sounds of talking, laughter, piano, and 
singing, the latter being a fairly good barytone voice sing- 
ing a barcarolle. 

“ Don’t announce me,” he said to the footman; and 
gently opening the door, he entered the room. 

Several men were standing or lounging about, Herbert 
Gresham among them; by the piano stood Rowcliffe, the 
singer, and Beryl was playing his accompaniment for him. 
She saw Lorraine the instant he came in, but there was no 
change in her face. She did not falter for a second in her 
playing; she just glanced up with a smile and slight bend 
of her head as he approached the piano, and he answered 
the greeting silently, shook hands with some of the men, 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 

sat down on a lounge next to young Anatole Marceau. 
the card-room were groups round the tables, Justin 
wood officiating as banker in a game of baccarat. 
They’re playing for jolly high stakes there,” observed 
of the men to Lorraine, with a slight backward jerk of 
head toward the card- room. 

They always do,” returned the other, dryly, “ espe- 

y at baccarat.” 

And when Harwood is banker, eh?” 
orraine pulled his mustache, but made no rejoinder to 
He glanced covertly at Gresham, who, he saw, had 
ned when he entered the room; and this resentment, 
•aiiie knew, was less on Emmie’s account than on 
r\ Oarolan’s. Naturally, Emmie’s husband and her 
in were scarcely on speaking terms; but this estrange- 
t was Lorraine’s doing, not Gresham’s, who, on his 
would have been friendly enough with his wife’s 
in, and, to do him justice, had no mean suspicion of 
the loyalty of either his wife or Lorraine; but Lorraine 
touched Gresham more nearly when he entered into rivalry 
in Beryl Carolan’s regard than when he refused to be 
friends” on account of the treatment Emilie had received. 

“ I like not Monsieur Harwood,” observed Marceau to 
Lorraine, with a young man’s frankness. “ What say 
you?” 

“ That a close tongue makes a wise head, mon cher .” 
le Frenchman laughed. 

Ah! I am incautious,” he said; “ but you are safe. 
lien! I say to Beryl, why does she not leave him and 
pon the stage again; but she says no, she is under a 
I. But as to that, c’est un mystere. Here she 
is!” 

le song was finished. Beryl rose from the piano and 
t forward to greet Lorraine; but now she scarcely 
;d, and her manner struck him as a little cold. He 
gave her a very seal clung look; but she avoided his gaze, 
and almost instantly turned from him to speak to some 
one else. 

Lorraine set his teeth, but gave no overt sign of being in 
any way affected by Beryl’s manner. He sauntered into 
the card-room and began a game of euchre with three 
others. He played recklessly, and, as there is at least as 
much skill as chance in euchre, he lost. Once, when the 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


97 


game was about half through, Beryl came near and stood 
looking on for a few minutes, and then she took Malleson’s 
arm and strolled back into the drawing-room with him. 

“ Your play, Mr. Lorraine,” said Standish. 

Lorraine played, and lost again. 

“ My hand's not in to-night/’ he said, carelessly. 

Beryl had gone to the piano again. In a moment her 
rich voice filled the rooms. Some of the men followed 
where the voice 'of the charmer led. Lorraine and his 
companions played on until the game was finished, then 
the other three went into the drawing-room; but Lorraine 
dropped into a chair near Harwood and began to talk to 
him, yielding his place presently to a man named Delves, 
who came to play a return game of ecarte with Harwood. 

Some of the men now began to leave, and there were not 
more than half a dozen left when Lorraine, entering the 
drawing-room, saw Beryl just saying good-bye to Anatole 
Marceau. 

44 It is quite late — or, rather, early enough — for you, 
Anatole, mon cher ,” she wa3 saying, half laughing; 44 and 
I shall go in a few minutes. Au revoir.” 

44 An revoir , my adored Beryl.” 

Marceau kissed her hand with a flourish, and departed, 
and Beryl, turning, found herself face to face with Lor- 
raine. But she was not startled out of her self-possession. 

4 4 May I ask you to forgive me,” she said, half carelessly, 
44 and to let me say good-night? I am so tired.” 

44 Are you too tired,” said Lorraine, gently, but with 
something in his tone and manner that warned her the 
gentleness only veiled stern determination, 44 to grant me 
a few minutes? I have hardly spoken to you this even- 
ing.” 

44 Eh lien! you had the cards! Won't the 4 few words ' 
hold?” 

Her heart was beating wildly; every nerve was quivering. 
For answer — they were in sight of the card -room — -Lorraine 
drew her hand on to his arm, led her to a little boudoir 
opening out of the drawing-room, and placed her on a 
lounge near the fire. 

Sitting down by her — strive as she would to maintain 
self-command, it was beginning to fail her now; she was 
jtre [p bling— Lorraine bent toward her and. asked, 


SINNEB OB VICTIM? 


“ what have I done to offend you, that you treat me as 
you have done to-night ?" 

For a moment no answer — her face was drooping, her 
eyes bent on the floor, her heart a very tumult of emotions 
— then the golden head was raised a little haughtily; she 
said, coldly: 

“ I don't understand your question, Mr. Lorraine." 

“ You understand it perfectly. Forgive me, but you | 
are acting a part now, as you have done all the evening — 
unless I have offended you." 

She did not resent his first words. How should she— 
were they not true? She said in a low tone: 

“ No, you have not offended me." 

Lorraine looked down at the white hand lying on her 
knee; it was quite still, and yet he could see that every fiber 
was at tension. With an instinctive, impulsive movement 
he laid his own hand upon it lightly; but, as he felt the 
uiver that ran through that little hand, his clasp tight- 
ned, closing over the trembling fingers with convulsive 
hroe. 

“ Don’t trifle with me," he said — and the passion that 
look him was in his voice, though he strove to keep it 
own — “ I can not bear it. Deal with me frankly — tell 
le why you were so changed to me to-night?" 

Beryl tried to answer him, but no words would come, 
ven strength to struggle for self-command seemed all 
me while his hand clasped hers, and her heart stood still 
. the fullness of the knowledge that he loved her. .She 
irned and looked at him, like some dumb animal in 
^ortal pain, and the hot color swept over cheek and brow, 
dyed her very throat, as she met the passionate worship of 
the man’s dark eyes. Her own gaze sunk. In a sudden 
terror she tried to wrench her hand from his clasp, but in 
vain; that clasp only tightened the more, and Lorraine 
bent over the shrinking girl, speaking quick and low, 
throwing everything to the winds now for the love that 
filled his whole universe. 

“ Beryl," he said, “ my own, my love, my darling, you 
do not fear me? you can not doubt me? I am yours, 
heart and soul, and honor." 

“ Oh, hush! hush!" broke from Beryl’s white lips in a 
hoarse whisper. “ For the love of Heaven, no more! You 
are mad to speak so to me!" 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


99 


“ Mad I am, if love be madness. And I love you. The 
whole world is nothing to me — less than nothing. I only 
know that I love you!” 

“ Ah!” she said, in agony, 44 why did I go to you? Why 
did we ever meet? And yet we parted — we might have 
been parted forever. What fate brought you here?” 

“ Fate! The fate that rules all men sooner or later. 
Beryl: I tried to keep away, but my will was crushed by 
a greater power. The very effort for self -conquest seemed 
to strengthen the longing that in the end mastered me. 
The first time I saw you it was like the beginning of a new 
life. My whole heart was bound up in gaining your 
acquittal. Did not your heart tell you. Beryl, that it was 
you who brought me here?” 

4 4 Yes, yes!” the girl muttered, brokenly, 44 and so I am 
the more guilty; but how could I say to you at first, 4 You 
come for my sake, you must not come/ and then — then — ” 
she faltered, flushing crimson, turning her face away. 

44 Then,” Lorraine whispered, and now he lifted the 
hand he still held, pressing it to his throbbing heart, 
44 then your own heart played you traitor. Beryl.” 

44 Heaven forgive me!” she said, under her breath. 
44 Heaven forgive me for the wrong I have done you!” 

44 Wrong! how do you wrong me in giving me what I 
would yield up all else that I possess to gain? Did I not 
seek you — try to win you?” 

44 But I!” she cried, with a bitter sob, 44 should have 
put the seas — the whole world between us — killed myself — 
rather than that you should waste your heart and life on 
such as I am!” 

<4 Beryl!” his voice, his manner, as he spoke her name, 
startled her to the soul; he was white to the very lips. 
44 Don't speak to me,” he said, 44 as if you were unworthy 
of a man's worship. 4 Such as you are,' pure, blameless, 
in heart and life, I love } r ou, and you are mine!” 

44 No — no — not that — it can not, it shall not be!” broke 
from her. She started to her feet; but Lorraine, rising 
too, flung his arms round her, and drew her forcibly to his 
breast, folding her in a close embrace. 

44 It shall be!” he said, with a passion the more intense 
that it was not noisy, but deep and strong — the voice low and 
suppressed; but in the eyes that met Beryl's agonized gaze 
the man's whole soul burned. 4 4 The world condemns 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 

j UU , uub you are more to me than ten thousand worlds. 1 
love you! You are my world — mv all ^ 

He drew the beautiful head back against him, and laid 
his lips to hers: and those passionate kisses seemed to draw 
the girl’s very life into his and make her will one with his 
own. Yet she was strong to resist through the very 
strength of her love; strong to turn from the dazzling 
light, and thrust* herself into outer darkness. When at 
length her lover raised his head, she lay in his arms for a 
moment quite still, save for the trembling that shook her 
from head to foot; but as Lorraine’s eyes searched her 
face, he saw the gathering resolve. He bent over her 
again, his lips touched her brow. 

“ My Beryl!” he whispered, tenderly, “ my own love, 
mine forever now!” 

ft No — no! have pity — spare us both,” the girl gasped; 
“it is madness — madness — you know it can not be! No,” 
striving to free herself; “ you must hear me!” 

“Speak, then,” said Lorraine, setting his teeth, “say 
what you will; but you will not make me yield.” 

He loosed his clasp and drew back. Beryl stood still a 
moment, pressing her hands to her heart, with that strange, 
“ hunted ” look in her eyes that is so terrible to see; but 
rallying herself with a supreme effort of will, she said, 
speaking at first falteringly, but more steadily as she went 
on : 

“ If I loved you less, I might yield to you; but I love 
you with my whole soul, and so— you must leave me. 
Think what I am — what at least I seem to be; and to the 
world we are what we seem to be. I, Beryl Carolan, a 
morally convicted thief, a woman at whose name other 
women shrug their shoulders — who rules over a salon to 
which men come, but not their wives and sisters. Can 
your name whiten mine? No; mine will blacken yours; 
you can not raise me; I shall drag you down. The world 
will see in your wife only a brilliant adventuress who 
knew her power, and used it — who fooled Yere Lorraine 
into giving her his name!” 

“Beryl! Beryl!” 

“ Stay!” she said — “ hear me still. If I am cruel, it is 
because I love you. Would the people among whom you 
live receive me? Why, if they missed a gold locket, or a 
diamond brooch, they would suspect Yere Lorraine’s wife! 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


101 


What are my credentials? In the present, the prisoner’s 
dock — Justin Harwood’s gambling salon! — in the past, 
who knows? Who knows if the very name I bear is my 
own? What do you, who would make me your wife, know 
of my past? Blameless — what then? If you” — she fal- 
tered a moment, and gripped the back of the chair near 
her to steady herself; then went on, more slowly — 14 if you 
should meet men who told you they had met your wife 
five years ago in Justin Harwood’s salon at Barcelona, how 
would you answer them? Do you think this is the first 
time? Live it down? No — no! A man may live down a 
past steeped in sin; a woman can never live down even the 
semblance of sin!” 

Lorraine had sunk into a chair, covering his eyes with 
his hand, his teeth clinched, his face ashen white with the 
agony he was enduring, and would endure, since Beryl so 
willed it. If only she had spoken one word that was not 
truth — horrible, naked truth! And yet he had fought this 
battle in his own heart, and still love had conquered. 

As she ceased now, he dropped his hand, and rose. 

44 Beryl,” he said, with the quietness which is so unquiet, 
44 do you think you have given me one stab my own hand 
has not already dealt me? uttered one pitiless truth that 
has not stared me in the face? Did I not struggle against 
the power that drew me to you, because all that you have 
said to me rose up and warned and defied me? I loved a 
woman whom the world condemns — and dared I even to 
say, condemns unjustly? And to me the world must count 
for much. I am successful; I am ambitious; the present 
is mine; the future may hold for me yet greater things. 
It is madness indeed to court the temptation to forget that 
no one creature can be to man or woman the whole world. 
All this I said, and more; through days and nights, 
through sleepless hours, I struggled. I am no boy, but a 
man; no weakling; I have a will of iron; no fool, a man 
of the world, with mind strong for the work that has made 
me what I am, and yet I failed. All my strife was in vain, 
all my worldly knowledge went for naught. My will bent 
to my heart like a willow wand in a strong hand. I loved 
you, and I came to you, and by Heaven!” he made one 
step to her, and caught her in his arms again, 44 you shall 
be mine!” 

Did Beryl yield now? Well might she bow her spirit to 


SttOTR OR YICTIM? 


tav masterful passion that in no figure, but literally, defied 
the whole world for her sake; but mighty was her love as 
his, and she was strong still to resist. 

“ I will not yield !” she said. “You can not make me 
yield !” 

She met his eyes with full, unflinching gaze now; it was 
heart to heart, soul to soul, a terrible strife. Lorraine’s 
very lips were bloodless — he scarcely seemed to breathe. 
So, for a few moments, then he said very low, very softly: 

“ For my sake. Beryl, you deny me the right I claim, 
and will never relinquish? For ^my sake you cling to a 
life that wrongs you? Your perfect love would sacrifice 
all that my love gives you? I will not accept the sacrifice. 
You shall yield to me yet!” 

She had no answer for that. She let him hold her to his 
heart, and kiss her lips at his will, but again and again she 
said within her breaking heart: “ Sooner will I take with 
my own hand this most wretched life, than suffer him to 
call me wife. Oh! Heaven keep me from doing him that 
last irrevocable wrong!” 

Would Yere Lorraine conquer after all? 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A FRACAS. 

As Beryl turned from her lover, both were startled by 
the sudden sound of loud and angry voices coming from 
the card -room. 

“ A quarrel!” said the girl, with a catch in her breath. 
“ Ah, Mon Diea ! I hear Justin’s voice!” 

As they hurriedly crossed the drawing-room, they saw 
within the card-room a confused group; and one man, 
Helves, shouting loudly, and evidently partially intoxi- 
cated, was struggling with some one who held him; but in 
the instant this scene presented itself, even as Lorraine’s 
stern voice demanded : 

“ Gentlemen, what does all this mean?” there was a 
flash — a sharp, but not loud report — a smothered cry, a 
louder cry of horror, and Justin Harwood fell back on his 
couch. 

Beryl sprung to her uncle’s side. Lorraine snatched the 
smoking pistol from Helves’ grasp, and hurled the man 
himself senseless into a corner. 


SIHNER OR VICTIM? 


103 


There was an instant hubbub of tongues. 

“ Killed?” “ The man was drunk.” “ He vowed Har- 
wood cheated him!” and a dozen other exclamations, ques- 
tions, and explanations, while Lorraine and Beryl bent over 
the wounded man, the girl white as a sheet. “ The man 
was drunk. ” “He vowed Harwood cheated him!” That 
was what she heard — and heard nothing else. 

“ Go for a doctor, some one,” said Lorraine, briefly — 
but Beryl’s grip was on his wrist like a vise. 

“No, no!” she said, hoarsely; “let him be carried to 
his room — I will send for our own doctor — no stranger.” 

Lorraine turned to Rowcliffe. 

“ Help me,” he said, “ to carry Harwood to his room. 
The rest, please leave — and not a word of this precious 
work. Malleson, rouse up that drunken fellow, and get 
him off quietly.” 

The wound was near the heart, and might turn out to be 
dangerous. Perhaps it flashed through Lorraine, as he 
helped Rowcliffe to bear the insensible man to his cham- 
ber, that if the bullet had done its work more thoroughly, 
the world at large would be none the worse off, and Beryl 
the better; but he was as gentle as any woman in his 
handling of the man who had probably earned his reward. 
But so soon as Harwood was laid on the bed, Lorraine dis- 
missed Rowcliffe, asking him to leave at once, to get the 
other men away, and to hush up the matter as much as 
possible. 

Then he turned to Beryl, who was already tearing up 
some linen into bandages. 

“ Tell me whom to go for. Beryl,” he said, “ and I will 
go at once. Some doctor should be fetched; the wound is 
dangerous.” 

She was rapidly and deftly binding up the wound. 
Without looking up she answered in a low tone: 

“ I must go myself. Will you— will you stay for a little 
while with Justin?” 

“ You go, at this time, Beryl! Impossible! You must 
let me — ” 

“Ah! no, no; you do not understand. It would be no 
use unless I went. Will you get me a cab, and see that 
all the men are gone?” 

Lorraine gave her one look, and without a word quitted 
the room. Within five minutes he returned, and found 


SIOTER OR VICTIM? 

that Beryl had thrown a long cloak over her rich amber 
robe, and drawn the hood round her face. 

“ Come/’ Lorraine said, “ there is a cab at the door; I 
will do what I can to revive Mr. Harwood. You know the 
road you are going, Beryl ?” 

“ Yes, well. I am quite safe, indeed. You need not 
fear for me.” 

“ My darling! how can I help it?” 

He led her down to the cab and placed her in it; but he 
did not ask her where he should tell the man to drive. It 
seemed to him that she did not care for him to know her 
destination. He only clasped her hand closely in his own 
for a second, and with a whispered “ Heaven keep you, 
my own!” turned back into the house and re-entered the 
room, where J ustin Harwood still lay senseless. 

There were brandy and water and other restoratives by 
the bedside, and Lorraine tried to restore animation, but 
in vain. Yet Harwood was not dead; his heart beat, 
though feebly; but Lorraine’s thoughts were with Beryl. 
For whom had she gone? Why must she go herself? 

What terrible mystery was there around the man lying 
wounded here, and the girl whose fate seemed in some way 
bound up in his? 

As the cab turned from the door, Beryl gave the order: 

“ Drive to Paradise Street, London Docks, and drive 
fast. You shall be well paid.” 

“ All right, lady,” responded cabby; adding, to himself: 
“ What’s up now, I wonder? Here’s a rum place for a 
swell lady to go to, and a rum time o’ day, too; and he 
was a howling swell as put her in the cab.” 

It was now about three o’clock in the morning, and the 
streets were clear of traffic, so Beryl’s hansom bowled along 
at a swift pace without interruption. Beryl leaned back in 
the cab, sick at heart. 

“ If he should regain consciousness while I am away, 
and his mind should wander, what might he not say?” she 
said within herself. This seemed to be the dread that 
haunted her most, and next came the fear that the fracas 
might get talked about and an inquiry set on foot. “ Will 
those men,” she thought, “ for their own interests be 
silent? Delves will be— but the others? Who were there? 
Rowcliffe, Malleson, Standish. Yes, they will keep their 
own counsel Heavens!” she said, clinching her hands 


SINISTER OR VICTIM? 


105 


over her heart, 44 if I could but crush down the horrible 
wish that the bullet — oh, no, no. Madonna mia, save me 
from such a thought !" 

Leadenhall Street, Aldgate, down the Minories, past the 
old Tower looming black against the bleak sky, past the 
Mint, down Eatcliffe Highway, and presently cabby pulled 
up and asked a policeman which was Paradise Street. 

4 4 Third turnin' to the right," was the answer, and on 
went the cab. 

In another moment Beryl had thrown back the doors, 
stopping the cab before St. Eans wythe’s clergy-house. 

44 Wait here," she said as she stepped out, her long 
robe flung over her arm under her cloak. 

How came she to know the way here so accurately? 
What was it she looked for when she went up to the door, 
as if she expected to find it? Yes, there it was — a bell 
marked in plain letters above it 44 Eight Bell." Beryl 
pulled it vigorously, and heard a deep bell ring, not in the 
passage, but above. It hung in the priest's sleeping 
apartment, so that he could be aroused at any time to 
attend the sick or dying. 

Beryl had not to wait more than three minutes be- 
fore she heard a quick, light step in the passage; the 
street door was opened, and there stood Mr. Harrington, 
wearing his- cassock, a candle in his hand. 

44 Who wants me?" he said, and started involuntarily 
as even the flickering light of the candle showed him a 
woman richly dressed and far above the class of his par- 
ishioners. 44 Come in," he added, quickly, and Beryl fol- 
lowed him into the sitting-room, where he set down the 
candle on the table and turned to Beryl. As he did so, 
she threw back the hood of her cloak, displaying her beau- 
tiful mass of red-gold curls, and her pale features all 
quivering with intense emotion. 

44 Father," she said — 44 Father Bernard, don't you know 
me?" 

With an involuntary exclamation he caught up the light 
and held it so that its rays fell full on her face. 

44 Great Heaven!" he exclaimed, and almost dropping 
the candle, clasped both the girl's hands in his own. 
44 Know you! Could I ever forget you? My poor child— 
oh, my poor child !" 

44 Hush! hush!" said Beryl, struggling with the sobs 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

that almost choked her. “ Don’t speak kindly to me, 
father. I can't bear it to-night. Oh, forgive me for 
coming to you, but I want you. I can trust no one else. 
He has been wounded. When he revives from his swoon 
he will be delirious. I have a cab outside. Will you come 
with me?" 

44 Surely I will." 

He unlocked a drawer and took out a case of instru- 
ments, then caught up his priest’s cloak lying on a chair, 
and broad hat, and quickly put them on, adding: 

44 But how is this? Wounded! Where and how?" 

44 Father," said the girl, 44 1 am Beryl Carolan, and he 
is Justin Harwood. " 

44 Beryl Carolan!" 

44 Did you never think of that? No; how should you? 
But you would not shrink from me?" 

44 Heaven forbid, my child!" he said, taking her hand 
in his again. 44 Come." 

He put out the light and went with her to the cab; and 
when he had taken his place beside her, Beryl told the 
cabman to drive back whence he had taken her up — to 
Hanover Street. 

The priest bent down to Beryl as they drove off. 

44 Who is with— Harwood?" he asked. 

44 Vere Lorraine." 

Mr. Harrington was silent for a moment, then he asked : 

44 Does he come to the house?" 

44 Yes, sometimes." 

Again a pause; then in a low, pained voice the priest 
asked : 

44 Beryl, my child, forgive me. Have you kept your 
promise to me?" 

The girl laid her hand in his. 

44 Father," she said, steadily, 44 before Heaven, I have 
kept it inviolate! Do you believe me?" 

44 Yes, Beryl." 

These two quietly spoken words from him meant more 
than a volume of asseveration from any other man. He 
did not release the girl’s hand again, but kept it in his own 
the rest of the way, and Beryl’s tortured spirit was 
strangely comforted. 

44 1 heard of you," she whispered, as they drew near to 
Hanover Street, 44 by chance — from Yere Lorraine; and I 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


107 


was so glad to know you were in the same city with me, 
though perhaps 1 might scarcely ever see you. I dared 
not come to your church. Besides — 99 

She stopped, and turned away her head. 

“ Besides what. Beryl?’ 5 

“ There is no place for me there, father. You don’t 
know what my life is; it seems all wrong and darkness. 
Here we are at the house.” 

The cab stopped and they got out. Beryl giving the man 
a sovereign. She opened the door with a latch-key, and 
led the way straight upstairs to Harwood’s room. 

Lorraine turned round from the bedside as the door 
opened, and inwardly started as he saw Mr. Harrington; 
but he came forward and held out his hand. 

4 4 Mr. Harwood is still insensible,” he said; and Beryl 
drew a breath of relief. 

Mr. Harrington threw off his cloak and went straight to 
the bed. Beryl stood by, Lorraine drawing back a little. 

In a few minutes the priest looked up. 

“ It is a deep swoon,” he said. “Come back to me 
shortly, Beryl. Mr. Lorraine, I need not keep you.” 

Lorraine understood, and made no offer of further service. 

“ Then, good-night,” he said, and turned to the door. 

Beryl followed him into the lighted passage, closing the 
door behind her. Then Lorraine drew her within his 
arms, holding her close to him; and she bowed her head 
down on his breast, not able now to resist him. She was 
too shattered and broken to feel anything but ineffable 
comfort in that strong, loving clasp. She clung to him 
as to some saving power; and when she tried to thank him 
for what he had done for her to-night, her voice died in a 
sob, and the words would not come. 

“My darling!” Lorraine said, tenderly, “you have 
been sorely tried. Let me stay with you a little longer. 
Beryl?” 

But Beryl shook her head. 

“ Ah, no,” she said; “ there is nothing you could do. 
He would not bear any one about him but Father Bernard 
or me. We knew him in America.” 

Yet she had said that night at the theater that she had 
known three or four Harringtons, but none of them were 
clergymen. Was it that this priest knew too much about 
J ustin Harwood, and so Beryl would not own to knowing 


108 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


him until circumstances compelled the admission? But 
Lorraine only soothed her gently, and told her that she 
must let him come to-morrow and see her. 

“ But I may not be able to leave Justin/’ she said, 
evasively. 

“ You will not make that an excuse, Beryl? Dearest, 
you must not try me so; you must let me see you.” 

How could she refuse him after that appeal? 

“ Forgive me,” she whispered, lifting her face to his. 
“ Come to-morrow. I will see you.” 

He pressed his lips to hers in a long, clinging kiss, and 
then reluctantly released her and went out. 

“ Oh,” said the girl, raising her clasped hands above her 
head, with an action of utter despair, “if I could tear out 
my heart and trample out its life beneath my feet I would 
do it! Why must I live, while thousands less wretched 
than I am die every hour? Death would be so welcome to 
me — so welcome! but it passes me by. Others sleep, and 
I live — live in torture!” 

Her arms fell to her side; she stood trembling, the drops 
gathering on her brow; then with a sudden effort she 
roused herself, and groping blindly, like one whose eyes 
were dazed, or whose senses reeled, turned back to Justin 
Harwood’s room. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

WHAT DID HARWOOD MEAN ? 

It was nearly an hour before Mr. Harrington succeeded 
in restoring Justin Harwood to consciousness, and then the 
man stared at him in a dazed manner, and half muttered 
an execration. 

He seemed in a good deal of pain; but the priest told 
Beryl he thought there was no danger; only Harwood had 
. narrowly escaped with his life. 

I “ To-morrow/’ he said, “ I may be able to extract the 
ball, meanwhile he must be kept as calm and quiet as pos- 
sible. 1 will write you a prescription, which you must 
have made up; there is no immediate hurry.” 

44 How’s this? Who floored me, eh?” muttered Har- 
wood, moving his head from side to side. “ You pass— 
eh?— euchred, by all that’s— What? who says I cheat? 


SINKER OR YICTIM? 109 

I? — what’s my name? Ha! ha! ha! I've got so many — so 
many!” 

He went off into inarticulate murmurs. Beryl drew the 
priest to a writing-table that stood at the further end of 
the room, and he sat down and wrote the prescription. 
Beryl stood waiting. When he had finished, Mr. Harring- 
ton looked up into the girl’s white face. 

“ Sit down here,” he said, gently, drawing forward a 
low chair near the table. “ 1 want to say a few words to 
you, my child.” 

Beryl winced, but obeyed him. 

“ Are you,” said the priest, “going to nurse this man 
unaided?” 

“ I must,” she answered. “ I dare not let any one else 
come near him. You heard what he said just now; he 
might say far worse things than that. I shall tell the 
servants he was taken suddenly ill. They must not know 
what has happened.” 

“ And the man who shot him — you can depend upon 
him?” 

“ It will go hard with him if he talks,” said Beryl, 
grimly. “ Though he was not sober at the time.” 

“ Harwood had made him drink?” 

“ Of course he had. I was not in the room, or' it never 
would have happened. J ustin only meant to daze him a 
little, and Delves could not have* been more than very 
much excited to have discovered he was being cheated.” 

“ Harwood was cheating him?” 

“ I dare say he was. He mostly gains by skill. He 
plays games that demand great skill, and he depends 
chiefly on that. But he cheats sometimes; only he is so 
clever at it that it would take a fellow-Corinthian to find 
him out. Delves may have fancied the play wasn’t fair, 
or Justin thought Delves more a llano lec than he was, 
and so was careless.” 

The priest sat silent for a few moments. It seemed as 
if he was too deeply troubled for speech. Then he said, 
slowlv: 

“ And there is no escape for you, Beryl, from this life?” 

“ None,” she said, steadil}*, not looking at her com- 
panion; “ if I left Justin you know what would happen?” 

“ You would at least -be free from guilt, Beryl.” 

She clinched her hands together as they lay on her knee. 


110 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Father,” she said, “ you don’t know all. I couldn’t/ 
leave Justin; and if I did, things would be a thousand 
times worse.” 

“ That would be on his conscience, my child; yours 
would be free.” 

“ But, father,” the girl said, “ don’t you think one may 
sometimes, ‘ to do a great right, do a little wrong,’ injure 
one’s own conscience to save others from intolerable shame 
and misery?” 

“ That is a dangerous doctrine. Beryl,” said the priest, 
sadly. “ But I will say no more now. I must be leaving 
you, for I have to take the six-o'clock service this morning; 
but I will come again in the course of the day.” 

Beryl’s violet eyes were blind with tears; she took the 
priest’s hand and kissed it reverently. 

“ Father,” she whispered, “ I don’t deserve your good- 
ness.” 

“ Hush, my child!” He laid his hand on the bended 
head, and said, softly: “ Heaven bless thee, child, and 
guard thee from all evil!” 

And then, with one last look at the wounded man, he 
went out. 

“ What is he?” muttered Harwood, in his restless wan- 
derings. 6 * Who did you say? Fere Felix? IN o — no — he 
was a big fellow! A Holy Joe of some sort, anyhow. 
Where’s the girl — yes, it’s all right. Here’s the der- 
ringer — a bullet through your heart, my man, or—” 

With a convulsive shudder, Beryl laid her cool hand on 
the sick man’s forehead, and he stopped for a moment. 
The girl’s lips were white and quivering with agony. 

What was Harwood talking about in his delirium ? 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

DELVES AND CO. IN CONFERENCE. 

At four o’clock on the day of which the small hours had 
witnessed the fracas in Harwood’s salon, a quartet was 
assembled in young Delves’ chambers. Delves himself lay 
in bed, mentally recovered, but feeling bodily weak from 
the effect of his treatment at the strong hands of Vere 
Lorraine; his memory of what had happened was by no 
means clear when he woke and found Rowcliffe sitting by 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


Ill 


his bedside. That individual had mounted guard in an 
arm-chair, while Delves slumbered, thinking it not pru- 
dent to leave the young man in charge of his valet. No 
saying what Delves might “ let out ” in dreams or when 
half awake. About half past three Malleson and Standish 
came round to see “ how the land lay;” but Rowcliffe kept 
them waiting until Delves was awake, and then admitted 
them to the apartment. So here they all were, Rowcliffe 
sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette, Mal- 
leson in an arm-chair, and Standish leaning against a chest 
of drawers. 

“ I just want to know what it’s all about,” said Delves, 
looking from one to the other. “ I was playing with Har- 
wood, and he — he rooked me, eh? And what did I do?” 

“ You were three parts tight, to begin with,” said Row- 
cliffe, “ and probably didn't know what was going on. I 
don’t suppose Harwood did rook you; at any rate, you’ll 
have to hold your tongue, for your own sake, as well as 
Beryl Carolan’s. You pulled out a pistol and shot Har- 
wood.” 

“ No !” cried Delves, starting up, “ I didn't — ” 

44 You didn’t kill him, no! I called round this morning 
and saw Miss Carolan. She says the wound is not danger- 
ous; the tale is that Harwood was taken suddenly ill; no 
one knows anything but we four. Miss Carolan, and Vere 
Lorraine. ” 

“ Thank Heaven!” said Delves, sinking back. 

“ You’ve good cause to say that, my man. If Harwood 
had been killed, it wouldn’t be easy to hush the matter 
up. Vere Lorraine has your pistol; it was he who sent 
you flying into the corner.” 

“ Was it? Yes — yes, I seem to remember now; but you 
won’t blab this, you fellows, will you?” 

“ Don't you frighten!” said Malleson; “ we've more 
than one reason for holding our tongues. The report of 
such a fracas, and for such a reason, would smash up the 
salon , and banish la belle Carolan from these shores. 
Hold your tongue — you’ll do that. I'll warrant — and ours 
are safe. But you’ll have to keep away from Hanover 
Street for some time to come.” 

“ What apology can I make to Miss Carolan? How will 
she ever forgive me?” exclaimed poor Delves. 

“ She gave me a message to you,” said Rowcliffe. “ I 


112 SINKER OR VICTIM? 

was to tell you that she knew when you came to yourself/ 
you would regret your conduct. She was perfectly aware 7 
you were not sober at the time, and so could hardly be 
held responsible for what you did. She seemed to thi/k 
Harwood was not free from blame, for she added that he 
ought not to have let you drink so much.” 

She is an angel!” said Delves, turning aside his f*ce. 

“ I don’t deserve she should send me such a message. 
But, Rowcliffe, that was it. I got mad at losing so mnch. 

I lost all the time, and I drank recklessly, till I was ripe for 
any mischief; and then I thought I caught Harwood 
cheating. I might be wrong, I can’t remember that 
clearly, and I charged him with it. He answered roughly; 
told me I didn’t know what I was about; and then it was, 

I suppose, I whipped out the pistol. I don’t know now 
whether I fired deliberately or not; it’s all a muddle; but 
I was in a blind rage; and it’s no fault of mine, it seems, 
that I wasn’t a murderer.” 

“ But what the dickens were you about with a loaded 
pistol?” asked Malleson, after a pause; 44 that’s what I 
want to know; we’re not in California.” 

“ I had been practicing in the evening with some fellows 
at a shooting-gallery,” said Delves, 4 4 and I remember dis- 
charging one barrel; then Charlie Welby came in, and we 
got talking, and I pocketed the pistol, and forgot all about 
the other barrel. I don’t believe I remembered when I 
pulled out the pistol at Harwood’s that it was loaded.” 

44 Don’t suppose you did,” said Malleson, dryly; 44 but 
I’d be more careful if I were you. Carrying loaded pistols, 
even on half-cock, is rather a risky kind of practice.” 

44 Well, I’ve had a good fright this time,” returned 
Delves, sighing; 44 it’ll last me my life, I expect. I might 
have killed any one,” he added, shuddering. 44 1 can’t 
bear to think of it!” 

Men are not much given to moralizing to each other, so 
Delves’ companions said nothing; besides, they sympa- 
thized with the young fellow, who was placed in a very 
painful position, and had so narrowly escaped taking a 
man’s life for an offense which, even if committed, would 
not warrant bloodshed. 

Rowcliffe rose. 

44 Well,” he said, 44 you’re all right again now, old fel- 
low, eh? — except feeling a bit crumpled up from the crop- 


SrorER OR VICTIM? 


113 


per Lorraine gave you. No danger of your letting out any- 
thing?” 

44 No, none. Thanks, Rowcliffe, for staving with me. 
I shall be quite myself in a few hours. By Jove! Lorraine 
must have sent me flying. I feel bruised all over.” 

They all laughed. 

44 It was as fine a fling as I ever saw,” said Rowcliffe. 
44 Rather you. than me, that’s all.” 

44 Maybe Lorraine wouldn’t care to have it known he 
was at Harwood’s,” observed Standish. 

Rowcliffe opened his eyes. 

44 Why in the world should he care? These common- 
law men are some of the fastest fellows out; and Lorraine 
isn’t married. ” 

* 4 But I’ve heard some on dits about him and Miss Ro- 
den.” 


44 On dits don’t go for much; and Lorraine wouldn’t be 
foolish enough to think he could keep his going to Har- 
wood’s a secret from Miss Roden; so he evidently doesn’t 
care. Why, he was at the theater with Beryl Carolan a 
week or two ago, and the Rodens in an opposite box.” 

4 4 Whew! I wonder what Mamma Roden said to that?” 
said Standish. 44 She wants the match.” 

44 And would wink at a good deal,” added Rowcliffe. 
44 Lorraine’s too crack a match every way. Come, now; 
we’ll leave this young man to get some more rest. I’ll 
look in again to-morrow, chappie, and see how you’re 
going on.” 

44 Thanks. I shall be awfully glad to see you.” 

Delves shook hands with the young men, and they went 
out, leaving him to reflections which were very far from 
being all pleasant. 

44 Say, Malleson,” observed Standish, as the trio walked 
down the street, 44 1 wonder if Harwood always does play 
fair, eh?” 

Malleson shrugged his shoulders. 

44 H’m! don’t know. I’d be sorry to back a man for 
downright honesty who’s so confoundedly skillful as Har- 
wood is.” 

44 And who has been in the States,” added Rowcliffe. 
44 Harwood’s not a bad fellow, in his way; but there’s 
something about him I don’t take to.” 

And to this the other agreed. 


114 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE PHANTOM AGAIN. 

In the dusk of the evening, Vere Lorraine sat alone in 
his chambers. He had sent his clerks home; there was 
no need for them to stay longer — there was no need for 
him to stay. He had told Beryl he would see her to-day. 
Had the fire in his heart cooled within a few hours, that 
he lingered here when he might have been by BeryPs side? 
Xay; Vere Lorraine scarcely loved in such fashion, or he 
would have listened to the counsels of his worldly wisdom, 
instead of flinging it all to the winds, as he had done six- 
teen hours ago. 

It was no thought of prudence now that made him a 
laggard lover, no harking back upon scruples crushed once 
and forever. It was the phantom that often haunted him, 
and now stood beside him in the gloaming — not a definable 
shape, but a presence that escaped when he tried to define 
it, but grew clearer when he sought to dismiss it. 

Why had that phantom come back to him to-day? Was 
it in warning or in menace? Again and again he had 
said, “ It was a dream, a sick man’s fancy;” and he had 
grown to almost believe this. And now, to-day, even amid 
his work, the old horrible doubt returned, and he could 
not exorcise the specter. 

He sat gazing into the coals, glowing with a dull-red 
glow, and step by step he went back, as he had done “ full 
many a time and oft ” already, through the years; and 
ever as he came to the time he would to-night have given 
all he possessed to recall distinctly, a cloud veiled and 
obscured his memory, like the cloud that veiled the sight 
of poor Rose Mary as she gazed into the beryl stone. 
There were faces he could not define, words he could not 
distinctly hear. 

Oh, for one moment — for only one moment — of full, 
clear memory! 

“ Why must I endure this torture?” he said in his heart. 
“ Let the dead past bury its dead?” 

He rose suddenly, flung on his ulster and hat, and three 
minutes later was in a hansom, en route for Hanover 
Street. 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


115 


“ Miss Cardan, sir?” said the footman, of whom he 
asked if he could see Beryl. “ I’ll see if she can leave 
Mr. Harwood. He seems getting on a bit, sir; but he’s 
very ill, out of his head, and Miss Carolan hasn’t left him 
a minute.” 

“ Has not the doctor been to see him again?” asked Lor- 
raine. 

“ I fancy the doctor’s with him now, sir — a clergyman 
he is. Will you walk in here, please, sir? and I’ll go up 
and tell Miss Carolan. ” 

He opened the door of the morning-room, and Lorraine- 
paced up and down for nearly five minutes in by no 
means a patient mood. Then a hand was laid on the door; 
it opened, and Beryl entered the room. 

Lorraine turned to her, opening his arms, and the girl 
did not resist the appeal. She threw herself on to his 
breast, and for some moments he held her to him in 
silence; then Beryl tried to draw herself away. 

“ I can not stay long,” she said, hurriedly. “ I could 
only leave Justin at all because Mr. Harrington is with him, 
and he must go soon.” 

But Lorraine would not release her. He drew her to a 
couch and made her sit down by him, still keeping his 
arms round her. And how could Beryl strive with him? 
She was so brain-weary, so heart-sick! Only she could 
know what it was to stand by the bedside of Justin Har- 
wood, and hear his ravings. For her 

“ ’Twas something like the hurst from death to life, 

From the grave’s cerements to the robes of heaven,” 

to be with Vere Lorraine, sheltered by his clasp, resting on 
his heart. 

“Why do you tempt me?” she whispered, at last. “ I 
ought not to have seen you; but you made me promise — ” 

“ And you had to keep your word? Was that all. 
Beryl?” looking down into the deep-blue eyes which had 
always such an expression of pain and suffering. 

“ Ah, no! you know that was not all. Would it had 
been! then I should be stronger.” 

“Not that wish, dearest,” said Lorraine, softly; “ not 
the wish that you did not love me, or loved me less.” 

“ The wish was for your sake,” Beryl said, hiding her 
face against him. “ But I can not say now all that is in my 


116 


SINISTER OR VICTIM? 


heart. I have such a little time that 1 can stay with you, 
and I feel too broken just cow to speak as I ought. When I 
can leave Justin I will see you once again, and then — ” 

44 Once again,” he said; 44 and then forever ” rushed to 
his lips, but never passed them. The phantom rose up 
before him, black and grim, and the words froze on his 
tongue. He turned deathly white, and in silence strained 
the slight form he held passionately to him, and it was 
some moments before either of them spoke: then Beryl, 
trying instinctively, perhaps, to lead a way to that which 
least occupied her thoughts, spoke of Justin Harwood. 

44 Mr. Harrington says he will not be long ill,” she said. 
44 He got out the bullet an hour ago.” 

44 And is Mr. Harwood delirious?” 

44 Yes — now; not violent. He lies and talks inces- 
santly.” 

44 My poor Beryl! that you should be forced to hear such 
ravings as his!” 

Beryl started, and looked up into her lover’s face with a 
flash of actual fear in her own. 

44 What do you know of him?” she said, quick and low. 

44 That he is a villain, 1 know,” Lorraine answered, 
quietly, 44 or he would not have placed you in your present 
position. That alone would be enough to prove his past 
record no spotless page. A man does not come all at once 
to such infamy. But his face, everything about him, tell 
a tale to me of an evil, reckless life. ” 

44 ‘ An evil, reckless life’ indeed,” repeated Beryl, 
slowly. But did Vere Lorraine know how evil? 44 And 
you are speaking,” she added, 44 of my uncle — ” 

She paused. 

Lorraine, filling up the hiatus, bent down to her. 

44 Is he your uncle, Beryl?” he said. 44 Y r ou call him 
so, though you speak to him and of him by his Christian 
name only. 1 can not believe that there is any kinship 
between that villain and you.” 

Beryl’s eyes drooped. She held her breath for a moment 
before she asked: 

44 Is that your only reason for doubting the relation- 
ship?” 

“ That is a question, Beryl — not an answer. Tell me 
the truth; is this man your uncle?” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 117 

Beryl lifted her head, and looked straight into her lover’s 
dark eyes. 

“ No,” she said; he is my step-father.” 

“ Thank Heaven!” 

Lorraine folded the girl to him again. 

“ Ho blood of his runs in your veins — I knew it could 
not be. But why the deception, Beryl?” 

“ Why?” echoed the girl, bitterly; “ ask a thousand 
4 whys,’ not one; why are the names we bear not our own? 
W hy do we live this horrible existence? — horrible, at least, 
to me — not to him. Why is our life a sham — why? — 
why? Don’t stop at one question.’ 9 

“ I will not,” said Lorraine, “ I will ask a hundred — 
ay, a thousand, if you will answer them.” 

“ But I can not do that. I can tell you one thing — 
that my Christian names are my own, not the other. I 
can not — dare not — must not tell you any more than 
that; and now, let me go; 1 must return to Justin.” 

Lorraine released her, and both rose; but there was a 
curious settling about the lines of his handsome mouth 
that Beryl could not quite read. Did he mean to try and 
compel her confidence, or to hold to his purpose of making 
her his wife? Hardly the last, after what she had just 
told him. He had naturally supposed that if she yielded 
to him it would be without reserve; that she would tell 
him all the truth about herself; but a man can not place 
his name and honor in the keeping of a woman who admits 
to him that the very name she bears is not her own, and 
that she “ dare not— must not ” tell him who and what 
she is, and what her life has been. 

“ Good-bye,” Beryl said, making a step toward the door. 

Lorraine took her hands in his, and drawing her to him, 
folded her to his heart once more. 

“ Not good-bye,” he said, pressing his lips to hers; “ I 
shall see you soon again. Beryl — very soon. Tell me when 
I may come.” 

Beryl raised her eyes in mute appeal, but the look she 
met assured her that resistance would be useless. Lor- 
raine would take no denial. 

“ I can not tell yet,” she said, “ when I shall be able to 
leave Justin. Will you let me write to you?” 

“ My own love, yes; but you will promise me to write as 
soon as you can?” 


118 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“Yes.” 

He held her to him a little longer, and then let her go, 
and Beryl went back to Justin Harwood’s bedside. 

Mr. Harrington was obliged to go now, and the girl was 
alone with Harwood. 

“ A fine bird to pluck!” muttered the sick man. “He 
doesn’t care for the play, it’s for her he comes, and never 
cares whether he wins or loses; and she wants to send him 
away. What for? — what for? That’s what I want to 
know. Yes, yes — that’s the ticket, pal, climb up this 
way. Eh? tread softly; you’ll be heard— eh? you hear a 
step? — Levant’s the word! Handsome, you bet — a regu- 
lar swell — worth something, 1 tell you, into the bargain! 
Why, his rings alone — that’s a real rose-diamond, and no 
mistake. Don’t be a fool, girl! what’ll he know about it? 
Find it out, will he? A bullet will soon settle that.” 

And so on, till at length the sleeping-draught admin- 
istered by the priest took effect, and J ustin Harwood slept. 

But Beryl Carolan sat wakeful and watchful through the 
long hours of the night. For her there was no sleep — no 
rest! 


CHAPTER XX. 

DOES HE LOVE HER ? 

“Yes, Enid, you look just perfect!” said May, survey- 
ing her sister; “ and am 1 all right?” 

Both girls were dressed for a small dinner-party at home, 
the invited guests being Emilie Gresham, Vere Lorraine, 
Hazlemere, and Mr. Harrington; the latter of whom was 
only able to come because a young clergyman staying with 
him for a few days would take evensong for him. 

Enid was dressed in pale pink. May in cream; and both 
had taken extraordinary pains with their toilets — not a bit 
more than usual, if they were to be believed; but the 
maids, putting their heads together, said they had never 
known either Miss Enid or Miss May so particular about 
their flowers and their jewels; so anxious as to the fall of 
their draperies; so generally solicitous to appear to the 
best advantage. 

“ As for Miss Enid, I can understand,” said that young 
lady’s abigail. “ It’s just because Mr. Lorraine’s coming 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


119 


she’s so mighty hard to please; but Miss May — it can’t he 
Mr. Lorraine; is it the painter, do you think?” 

“ Most likely,”' replied May’s tirewoman. 44 He’s ver/ 
nice-looking, and if I was Mrs. Roden, I wouldn’t have let 
Miss May go to him to have her portrait took. People are 
apt to fall in love under those circumstances. ” 

So now Enid and her sister were doing the mutual- 
admiration business; but certainly each deserved the praise 
of the other. 

“ Yes, you’ll do; you couldn’t look nicer, dear,” said 
Enid, ignoring any special desire on May’s part to fasci- 
nate; perhaps she feared a tu quoqae . 44 Are you ready? 

Shall we go down?” 

44 Yes,” replied May, looking critically over her shoulder 
into the pier-glass, and giving a few feminine twitches to 
her skirts. 44 That’s right — come along.” 

They ran down to the drawing-room, and in a few min- 
utes Mr. Hazlemere was announced; next came Mrs. 
Gresham; and while Enid was talking to her, and pretend- 
ing she was not watching the door, it opened once more, 
and the girl changed color as she caught sight of Lorraine’s 
tall figure. 

Poor Enid! how her heart beat when Vere came up to 
her, and, instead of turning away after greeting her, took 
a vacant place beside her, and began to talk to her. 

44 Do you know. Miss Roden,” he said, smiling, 44 I am 
promising myself a treat to-night. Emmie told me the 
other day that you sung a new song down at St. Ean- 
swythe’s which brought the house down, and I want to 
hear it.” 

44 Oh, Mr. Lorraine,” cried Enid, 4 4 1 shall think you 
are laughing at me! As if you would care for a song that 
delighted the audience in Paradise Street. I don’t think 
you care much for songs at all?” 

44 1 don’t generally; but I like to hear you sing,” he 
answered; 44 and Emmie said the song was really good. I 
hope you don’t really think I would laugh at you?” 

44 1 don’t know,” said the girl, archly. 44 You might.” 

44 A lawyer’s word, I suppose, goes for nothing?” 

44 Not for much,” interposed Emilie. And to herself 
she said: 44 How right George Eliot is when she says that 
sympathetic people seem to mean so much more than they 
do mean! Vere hasn’t the slightest idea of the mischief 


120 


SIKNER OR VICTIM? 


he is doing when he talks to Enid as he is doing now. She 
felicitates herself over his remembering my mention of a 
song, whereas it is only that he notices everything and for- 
gets nothing, and would have said the same thing to May 
or to any one else. The girl fancies he's getting to like 
her; and I’m afraid, if he's in love at all, it is with Beryl 
Carolan." 

The entrance of Mr. Harrington created a diversion, and 
a few minutes later dinner was announced, and the party 
filed down into the dining-room. 

Lorraine was seated next to Enid, and, as sometimes he 
spoke apart to her, the priest covertly watched them, as he 
had done that Sunday at the clergy-house; he saw the soft 
light in the girl's eyes — the pretty color creeping into her 
cheek now and then — and he thought: 44 Yere Lorraine is 
no flirt. Does he find the girl more than a pleasant com- 
panion, or is it entirely on her side?" 

Presently something was said about a new play which had 
been produced the previous night, and which the Rodens 
had been to see. 

44 What is it about, Mr. Roden?" Hazlemere asked. 44 I 
couldn’t go, and I forgot to look for a notice of it . 99 

“Oh! you must ask the girls," replied Mr. Roden. 44 I 
never can make head or tail of a play." 

44 A melodrama, I fancy," said Lorraine. 4 4 1 was too 
busy last night to go. Miss Roden, will you enlighten our 
ignorance? Mr. Harrington is particularly anxious to 
know all about it." 

The priest laughed. 

44 1 dare say," he said, 44 1 shall prefer hearing about it 
from Miss Roden to seeing it." 

44 1 hope your reverence means a compliment?" said 
Lorraine. 

44 1 am sorry there should be any doubt upon that 
point," said Mr. Harrington. 44 You see, I have not your 
experience, Mr. Lorraine." 

44 You evidently don’t need it," retorted the other, with 
exceeding gravity, and the laugh went round, the priest 
joining in it. 

“ And now for the play," said Lorraine, turning to 
Enid; 44 was it blood-curdling?" . 

44 Oh! I don’t know," said she. 44 It was a very con- 
fused story, as is always the case in these, pieces with a lot 


SIHNER OR VICTIM? 


121 


of people in them. The hero is turned out from his 
home; he is heir to a large property, and runs away to sea; 
he gets cast away on a sort of pirate’s island. ” 

” And the heroine is the chief pirate’s daughter,” inter- 
posed May. 

“ Yes. Well,” Enid went on, “ by and by the hero, 
Hugh Walrond, discovers a hidden treasure on the island; 
the pirate chief comes upon him just when he has put the 
treasure back in the hole — ” 

“ And the pirate,” put in May, taking up the tale again, 
cries: ‘ What hast thou hidden here, Englishman?’ he’s a 
Greek pirate, you know. Walrond says nothing, and then 
the pirate threatens to shoot him — ” 

May went on, but Lorraine did not hear anything but a 
humming round him for the next two minutes; those ordi- 
nary words seemed to crash into his heart as if they had 
been a bullet, and not merely talk about a bullet. He 
saw, not the faces round him, but a room, a sort of cabin, 
and a man roughly clothed, holding a pistol, with a threat- 
ening gesture; and he knew that what he saw was not 
merely a vision — how should it be? Yet he could not 
define it as a memory. 

The change in his face was too brief and too slight to be 
noticed by any one at the table but Bernard Harrington; 
and he saw, and watched covertly and very keenly, the 
handsome features of the man opposite to him. 

“ Of course,” were the next words Lorraine caught — 
May was still speaking — “ the pirate wanted the treasure, 
and Walrond pretends there- is none. ‘ Show me the way 
to the treasure thou hast hidden,’ cries the pirate, * or take 
a bullet in thy heart!’ ” 

“ What melo-dramatic stuff!” cried Hazlemere. 

“ Yes, go on; what next?” asked Emilie, laughing; but 
Lorraine said not a word; his teeth were set close; his 
heart was beating in slow, heavy throbs. 

“ Take a bullet in thy heart!” Where had he heard 
those words, or words like them? Mho had said them? 
Were they to him, or to some one else? Had he dreamed 
he heard them, or was it an actual experience? He roused 
himself with one of those terrible efforts that cause even 
physical pain as well as mental agony, and said to Enid, 
with a half smile, 


122 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

“I am glad I did not waste an evening over such a piece. 
You must have been bored to extinction.” 

“ It was lucky, then,” replied Enid, half archly, 44 that 
mamma did not, as she originally intended doing, ask you 
to join us.” 

44 Ah!” said Lorraine, quickly, 44 I should not have 
been bored in that case; but, unluckily for me, briefs 
would have robbed me of the pleasure in any case.” 

44 Mamma thought you had an engagement for last 
night,” said Enid, taking the compliment, with the 
egotism of love, especially to herself. 

44 In the Temple — nowhere else,” said he. 

Here Mrs. Roden gave the signal for adjournment, and 
the ladies rose and sailed out to the drawing-room; while 
Lorraine, Mr. Harrington, and Hazlemere tried not to be 
bored by their host, but were bored nevertheless. All 
three were very abstemious wine-drinkers, whereas Mr. 
Roden drank four or five glasses, and prosed heavily, as if 
he were in the House of Commons, over subjects which 
nobody else cared about; while Lorraine would have been 
glad of an opportunity of talking with Mr. Harrington, 
and Hazlemere was fretting and fuming to be by May’s 
side. 

At length, however, there was an adjournment to the 
drawing-room, and Lorraine presently asked Enid for the 
new song, and while she sung, he stood by and turned her 
pages for her; and she was in Paradise, while he all the 
time was thinking of Beryl Carolan. 

Mr. Harrington sat down by Mrs. Roden’s side. 

44 What a treat it is,” he said, 44 to hear in a drawing- 
room such really cultivated singing as Miss Roden’s!” 

44 Enid is flattered by your approval,” said the well- 
pleased mother, 44 for Mrs. Gresham tells me you are so 
musical, and Mr. Lorraine is a most severe critic; yet he 
likes Enid’s singing.” 

The priest smiled. He could do a bit of diplomacy, 
like most ecclesiastics, and he was doing it now. 

44 But is Mr. Lorraine’s usually correct judgment en- 
tirely unbiased in this case?” he asked, mildly. 44 Hot 
that I mean to imply that Miss Roden’s singing — ” 

Mrs. Roden laughed, and her eyes sparkled. 

44 Oh, I understand you perfectly, Mr. Harrington,” she 
said. 44 1 don’t think Mr. Lorraine is a man to let his 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


123 


judgment be warped by anything; besides, he always 
admired Enid's singing from the first day we knew him. 
But I think, I hope — " 

She paused. 

“ Yes?" said Mr. Harrington, gently. 

“ Well, I hope what you seem to think is the case may 
prove to be so. There is no man to whom we would so 
gladly give Enid. Lorraine is a man of great gifts, and a 
noble-hearted, singularly unselfish man as well." 

The priest glanced toward the piano. Enid's song had 
just ceased; Lorraine was bending down, saying something 
to her — some compliment on her singing, no doubt; and 
she, with her eyes bent down and her fingers wandering 
lightly over the keys, was listening to the musical voice 
that was wont to charm far harder hearts than hers, and 
drinking in sweet poison. Was the picture a painful one 
to the man who silently watched it? Self-command was 
too much a habit with him for any betrayal of his 
thoughts or feelings, whatever they were. He replied to 
Mrs. Roden: 

“ Yes, in these days one does not often meet with so fine 
a type of character as Lorraine's." 

The mother smiled again, looking across to Enid and 
Lorraine. The latter had moved now, and was talking to 
Emilie Gresham; then Enid and May went to sing a duet, 
and Emilie to play for them, and Lorraine sat down at a 
little table not far from the piano, and began idly turning 
over the leaves of a photograph album. Mr. Harrington 
rose and crossed the room to the table, and Lorraine, look- 
ing up and seeing him, instantly rose and placed a chair 
for him. 

“ Thanks," said the other, sitting down; and then he 
saw that the photograph before Lorraine was one of Enid. 
It was at this, then, he had been gazing dreamily for the 
last minute or two! How easy it is for even the keen- 
sighted men and women to read things backward ! Lor- 
raine, in truth, had opened at this portrait by chance; he 
had forgotten the next second who it represented. He 
was not looking at it at all; nor was he listening to the 
song at the piano; his mind was dwelling on those words 
he had heard at the dinner-table, and on Beryl. Was she 
ever, indeed, for one moment absent from his thoughts? 


124 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


“ Photographs?” added Mr. Harrington. “ Ah! Miss 
Roden — a very good likeness.’’ 

“ Very good,” assented Lorraine, looking at it for the 
first time attentively. Then he turned the page, and the 
next photograph was one of a Mexican hacienda , which 
Lorraine himself had given to Enid. 

“ How came that here?” asked Mr. Harrington. 

“ A place where I lived for a week a few years ago, not 
far from Santa Fe,” Lorraine explained; “and very wel- 
come the old don and his family made me.” 

“You have traveled in some strange, wild places, Mr. 
Lorraine?” 

“ Yes; but I shunned the cold countries. I spent part 
of a winter in St. Petersburg once; but I have never wished 
to repeat the experiment.” 

“ Well, 1 confess I don't care for the cold. I have 
passed, too, most of my foreign life in warm climates — 
India and Australia.” 

There was just the slightest pause before Lorraine said: 

“ I must have seen you in Australia, I think.” 

“ In Sydney, perhaps, as 1 said before.” 

Lorraine shook his head. 

“No,” he said, slowly. “I have thought over that; 
but if I had seen you clearly, I should have known you 
again. Were you ever stationed up country — at a place 
called Barra Creek — about sixty miles from Sydney?” 

“No,” said the priest; “ never. Why?” 

“ I might have seen you there, that’s ail,” returned Lor- 
raine; “ but I don’t think the place was more than a few 
shanties — I hardly knew it.” 

“ Then you only passed through it?” 

“ No; 1 was there some three weeks; but I was ill — 
wounded, and out of my head nearly the whole time, so I 
couldn’t very well explore the neighborhood. But for- 
give me, I don’t care to talk about that time — my mem- 
ories^ of it are vague and confused, and they are all pain- 

“ Forgive me, Mr. Lorraine; I am sorry I mentioned 
the subject.” 

“ It was I who broached it, not you, Mr. Harrington; 
and in any case there would be nothing to forgive. How 
well Enid’s voice blends with her sister’s?” 

“ Yes, they both sing very charmingly.” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


125 

Lorraine had called Miss Roden by her Christian name, 
and had not corrected himself; the latter he would hardly 
do; if he had made a slip of the tongue, worldly wisdom 
would counsel him to let the slip pass; but it might merely 
be that, as he was accustomed to hear his cousin, Mrs, 
Gresham, talk of “ Enid,” the name came naturally to his 
lips. 

We seldom speak of people as we speak to them; a lady 
mentions her male acquaintances by their surnames only, 
but never omits the titular prefix in addressing them; 
men talk of “Mary So-and-So;’ : but would not call the 
lady in question Mary to her face. And, Mr. Harrington 
further reflected, Vere Lorraine was not a man likely to 
betray himself, unless under the influence of very great ex- 
citement, so that “ Enid ” probably meant nothing; and 
when the girl left the piano, Lorraine did not seek her; he 
let her sit down by Emmie’s side, and either did not notice, 
or ignored the shade of disappointment on her brow. 

“ How is it?” the priest mused. “ Is he fond of Enid 
Roden, or is he only seeking her in a kind of recoil, being 
in love with Beryl, but naturally shrinking from offering 
her marriage? Shall I question Beryl? Yet Lorraine 
has not been to the house for more than a week. Is that 
his doing, or Beryl’s?” 

But by and by Lorraine went and sat down by Enid, and 
the girl’s face brightened, and a soft smile hovered on her 
lips; and yet while Lorraine was unconsciously making 
Enid happy, he was saying in his heart : 

“ A whole week and not a word from Beryl? But I 
promised to wait, and I must keep my word. If she would 
only write to me!” 

The evening came to a close, and the guests took their 
leave, Hazlemere in the seventh heaven, for had not May 
been most kind to him? and Lorraine feeling relieved; he 
was hardly in a mood just now to have any genuine pleas- 
ure in society, and yet he sought it as a distraction. 

When he returned to his chambers in Albemarle Street, 
after escorting Emilie Gresham home, he looked quickly 
among the letters awaiting him, to see if there was one 
from Beijl; and suddenly his heart leaped up with a pas- 
sionate throb as he caught up one of the letters and pressed 
it to his lips. 

4 4 At last!” he muttered, “ at last!” 


m 


SINNER OB VICTIM? 


Yet the letter itself might have been written to any 
ordinary friend, or even to make a mere business appoint- 
ment. 

! 44 Dear Mr. Lorraine, — I shall be able to see you any 

I time to-morrow evening, or any other evening this week. 

44 Faithfully yours, 

44 Lilian Beryl Carolan.” 

44 Why do you write to me so coldly, Beryl?’ 5 the man 
whispered, covering his face. 44 Oh, can I ever wish that 
I had never known you? No! — in all the agony that I 
endure, to love her, to know that her love is mine, is hap- 
piness I would not yield to purchase years of peace! She 
is mine — she shall be one day all my own!” 

And Enid and May Roden, in dressing-gowns and slip- 
pers, were reveling in the warmth of Enid’s dressing-room 
fire, and enjoying what young ladies term a 44 jabber.” 

Enid was disposed to be dreamy; but May’s high spirits 
inclined her to express her happiness in a more objective 
form, and she laughed and 44 chaffed ” Enid a good deal 
about Lorraine; Enid not minding the said 44 chaff ” — in 
fact, she liked it. 

44 Fancy his remembering that song, you know — and 
asking for it!” said May; 44 and he’s nothing of a song- 
lover, which makes it the more suspicious!” 

44 Nonsense, May!” returned Enid, coloring. 44 1 should 
think you were too busy chattering to Mr. Hazlemere to 
notice what Lorraine said or did.” 

44 Ah! the tu quoque won’t do, you know!” exclaimed 
May, coloring in her turn. 44 1 don’t let many things 
escape me, and certainly not what Lorraine says or does. 
You needn’t be jealous; and as to Hazlemere, I didn’t 
talk much to him.” 

44 He did to you, then — so it is much the same thing. 
May.” 

44 Oh, Enid! — absurd!” 

44 It’s not absurd!” persisted Enid. 44 1 am sure he 
likes you very much. May.” 

44 Not a bit!” protested May, the color of a rose; 44 and 
you know it would be no good if he did.” 

44 You are not mercenary, May!” said Enid, gravely. 
44 Money does not make happiness, does it?” 

44 It’s a very jolly thing!” said May, with a worldly 


SINNER OR YICTJ 


manner that would not have deceived me must, mauoom 
creature living. 

Enid laughed. 

44 Very well/’ she said; 44 you have plenty—” 

44 Oh, Enid!” cried May, springing up/ 64 you run on 
too fast! I shall go to bed. Good-night, and pleasant 
dreams of — of somebody!” 

44 The same to you!” retorted Enid; and May fled to 
her own apartment. 

Enid sat still, musing. 

44 1 wonder if he does like me?” ran her thoughts; 44 or 
if — No — he can’t care for Beryl Carolan! 1 don’t believe 
he does; she is so — so — ” 

She paused. 

So what? Only a little while ago Enid Roden was ready 
to hurl defiance at any one who traduced her dear Beryl. 
But jealousy makes terrible havoc with love and with jus- 
tice. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

HERBERT GRESHAM’S GOOD ANGEL. 

While Justin Harwood lay wounded, the 44 evenings” 
in Hanover Street were of course suspended and there was 
wailing and gnashing of teeth among the exiles; for Beryl 
also was invisible, being in close attendance on the invalid. 

44 1 can’t stand it any longer,” said Gresham one morn- 
ing to Rowcliffe, who was breakfasting with him, the hour 
11.30. 44 1 shall go to-day and try to see Miss Carolan.” 

44 You think she’ll make an exception in your favor, 
eh?” asked the other, with just a suspicion of a sneer. 

Gresham flushed slightly. 

“Not as you imply,” he said, after a pause. 44 She 
has made me understand that clearly enough, by Jove! 
but I worship her all the same!” 

44 Of course. Think you’ll make her change her mind?” 

44 No, Rowcliffe; I’m not so foolish, and, bad as I am, I 
don’t think I’d even try.” 

Rowcliffe looked at the speaker, and said no more on 
that subject, but his next remark was a propos : 

44 1 tell you what, Gresham, I don’t believe there’s a 
nobler woman breathing than Beryl Carolan. Think what 
her temptations are! and yet she steers clear!” 


12S SINNER OR VICTIM? 

“ Ay!” said Gresham, quickly; then his brow clouded; 
“ but that diamond robbery, Rowcliffe?” he added, 
dubiously. 

“ She was sheltering some one else/’ said Rowcliffe, de- 
cidedly. “ I’ll never believe her a thief!” 

“ Nor I; that is — I can’t believe it, in spite of very ugly 
evidence.” 

“Evidence be hanged!” returned Rowcliffe, unreason- 
ably, as he rose. “ Now I must be off, Gresh. See you 
at the Maple Tree to-night?” 

The Maple Tree was a well-known gambling proprietary 
club in St. James’s Place. 

“ Probably. Ta-ta!” 

And Rowcliffe departed. 

Gresham looked at his watch. Why not call in the 
morning? He might have a better chance of seeing Beryl 
than if he deferred until the afternoon, when there might 
be other callers — if she was seeing people at all. 

So he rose, dressed himself with scrupulous care, and 
walked off to Hanover Street, where he was told that Mr. 
Harwood was much better, and was shown into the draw- 
ing-room. 

It may be mentioned that the witnesses of the fracas in 
the salon had religiously kept their secret, and that Her- 
bert Gresham openly supposed Harwood’s illness to be “ a 
seizure of some kind.” 

He had not long to wait. In a few minutes the door 
opened and Beryl came in. She was dressed in a long 
black velvet robe, with a little ruff round the throat edged 
with pearls, and she looked, thus attired, Gresham thought, 
more beautiful than ever; or was it that each time he saw 
her he imagined he had never yet fully appreciated her 
loveliness? 

She came forward with a smile to meet her visitor, hold- 
ing out her hand, and Gresham stammered out something, 
he scarcely knew what. Beryl, however, was perfectly 
self-possessed. 

“ How kind of you to call!” she said. “ Please sit 
down. Justin is so much better now; lie hopes to be in 
the drawing-room early next week.” 

She seated herself in a fauteuil near the fire; Gresham 
took a chair near her. 

(( pon’t call me kind,” Jio said, a little huskily, “ 1 


SIXNER OR VICTIM? 


129 


ought to ask you to forgive me for troubling you with my 
presence; I couldn't help coming." 

44 And I am pleased to see you," Beryl said, quietly. 
44 There is no reason why you and I should not be very 
good friends, Mr. Gresham, is there?" 

She looked straight into his face as she said this, with a 
clear, penetrating, unclouded gaze, which he met, fasci- 
nated and bewildered. What did she mean? She knew it 
was not friendship he felt for her; she had already made 
him pretty plainly understand that she would regard any 
deeper homage from him than ordinary galanterie allowed, 
as an insult. He could not understand Beryl Carolan; she 
was not in the least like any woman he had met before. 
What other woman would — nay, could dare do — coolly 
ignore what amounted to a- confession of love from a man 
who could not oiler honorable love — and, looking him in 
the face without a change of color in her own, talk to him 
of 44 friendship?" 

44 You are puzzled?" she said, after a moment, seeing 
that he was not likely to break the silence. 44 No wonder; 

I suppose I am rather eccentric; and I don't know if you 
will forgive me for what I am going to say." 

44 Nothing you can say," said Gresham, eagerly, 44 could 
need forgiveness." 

44 Is that from your heart, or is it merely fa^on de 
pcirler ?” 

44 From my heart. How could it be otherwise?" 

44 Still, I may wound or offend you. I am not going to * 
flatter you, you know." 

4 4 If you wound me, it will be because of my own deserts; 
you can not offend me." 

44 That is generously spoken, Mr. Gresham. Then, will 
you let me say first, that though you are not a good man, 
you are not a thoroughly bad man — not as bad as you 
believe yourself to be; and that for the good in you — for 
what you may be yet, though you are not now — I like 
you, and 1 want you to be more worthy of yourself." 

Gresham’s cheeks flushed ; he turned aside. 

44 You like me!" he repeated, with a catch in his breath. 

44 1 don’t deserve it. Beryl — Miss Carolan." 

44 Beryl, if you like," the girl said, gently. 44 1 can’t 
measure deserts where I am concerned; but do you say the 
same with regard to your wife?" 


130 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 

Gresham started so violently that Beryl paused; but 
Gresham muttered, hurriedly: 

44 Go on — go on!” 

44 1 have no right to speak to you at all, I know,” she 
went on, 44 as I am doing, and perhaps you think anything 
which may sound like reproach or admonition comes 
strangely from me — ” 

44 Beryl! no — no!” interrupted Gresham, passionately, 
and turning to her. 44 Don’t wrong me by believing I 
could have such a thought. There is no woman living I 
honor as I honor you!” 

44 Thank you,” said the girl, with a momentary quiver 
of the lip. 44 But this at least you may think — that 1 have 
no right to interfere — ” 

44 Nor that,” said Gresham. 44 1 could not have 
dreamed — after my presumption, too — that you took 
sufficient interest in me to care what became of me.” 

44 Is that the way you look at it? Then I will speak 
frankly. I don’t ask any confidence, and I have heard 
nothing concerning you and your wife but general rumor. 
Yet of this I am sure — that the greatest, if not the entire, 
blame was yours.” 

Gresham writhed as if under the knife, and once more 
turned away, so that Beryl could not see his face; but she 
saw his tight-clinched hands and heaving breast — his whole 
frame quivering. By and by — for Beryl would not break 
this silence — he rallied somewhat, and said in a hard tone: 

44 It’s too late now, and I haven’t the will. She no 
longer cares for me, nor I for her.” 

44 Nothing that you have just now said is true, Mr. 
Gresham; it is not too late — your wife loves you as you 
don’t deserve any woman should love you; and you love 
her far more than you know.” 

Gresham turned his face slowly to the girl. 

She met his gaze unflinchingly. 

44 You have never spoken to Emilie,” he said. 44 How 
do you know that she loves me?” 

44 You know T that she does; you are only fencing, Mr. 
Gresham; and you loved her— once.” 

44 Yes — once!” 

44 But not now— your love is mine now, you "would say, 
but you see that is useless, and would be useless if you were 
free to-morrow. You have almost wrecked your life as it 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 131 

is; I can’t let you quite wreck it, if I can possibly prevent 
such misery.” 

44 It is quite wrecked,” said Gresham, gloomily; 44 you 
don’t know— I couldn’t tell you — ” 

44 And I need no telling,” said Beryl. 44 1 have seen the 
world as few women see it, Mr. Gresham; but it is sheer 
fatalism for any man to say of his life, while he has health 
and strength, that it is wholly lost; and of this I am cer- 
tain, that if you really wished and sought your wife’s for- 
giveness, you would gain it.” 

Gresham rose up hastily and paced through the room, 
with flushed cheek and sparkling eyes. 

44 If!” he repeated — 44 if! Why should I wish it? The 
blame was not all mine. Beryl! — it was not!” 

44 No?” Beryl said, watching him; 44 did she not bear 
with you to the uttermost — forgive you again and again?” 

Gresham started, and stopped in his excited walk. 

44 How do you know?” he said. 44 You told me — ” 

44 That I had only heard rumors. Yes, and the rest I 
can piece together for myself. I have seen your wife, and 
heard much of her from Enid Roden, and something from 
others; and it is an old story, isn’t it? A man trampling 
on a woman’s heart, and the woman forgiving until she can 
forgive no longer?” 

44 You stab freely!” said Gresham, through his teeth. 

44 And cruelly wound your masculine vanity,” added 
Beryl, 44 by refusing to recognize in you any element of 
the martyr. Well, you have been very forbearing; per- 
haps I have said too much; I will say no more.” 

44 No, you have not said too much; you have not said 
half enough!” cried Gresham, throwing himself down 
beside her. 44 1 deserve every reproach you have uttered, 
and a thousand more.” 

Beryl’s violet eyes filled with tears; she laid her. hand on 
his. 

44 Then you do wish,” she said, softly, 44 for a better, 
nobler life?” 

44 1 don’t know what I wish!” he said, hoarsely, veiling 
his eyes with his other hand— 44 for anything you ask. 
Beryl.” 

She did not deprecate those words. The man, she knew, 
must begin on the lower plane; his very passion for her- 
self had raised him above the ignoble level on which he had 


13 2 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


hitherto been content to live; the more when her rejection 
of his homage as an insult had inspired him with a true 
reverence for her. That he was capable of this feeling for 
a woman who had haughtily refused him as a suitor was 
proof of how much good there was under all the underlying 
dross of his character. 

That he loved her still. Beryl knew, but it was a love 
chastened by deep respect; yet, it might be contended, she 
was hardly prudent in allowing him to continue his visits 
to the house. But Beryl knew herself, and the man with 
whom she had to deal; she did not fear him, and she did 
not want to lose her hold over him. She had gained now 
more than she had flared to hope for, and her cheek 
flushed, her eyes glowed, as she said, earnestly: 

44 If my wishes, then, have so much weight with you, 
will you try, for my sake, to be what I so long to see you? 
You tell me you honor me; let me be able to honor you.” 

He did not answer her for a minute or two; his hand 
clasped hers now, clinging to it, as a man in moral straits 
clings to a woman, for here the woman is the stonger; and 
terrible was the struggle within him, for even some measure 
of self-command. When at length he spoke, his voice 
was strained and broken. 

44 How can you trust me, Beryl? I made her promises, 
and broke them again and again, and I loved her then.” 

44 And you love her now,” said Beryl, softly; 44 but in 
spite of what you have just said, I will trust you — not to 
be all at once what I know you will be yet — but to try to 
grieve when you fail. So! you will promise me?” 

He dropped his hand from his face, and suddenly kneel- 
ing before her, kissed her hand devoutly. 

44 1 do promise,” he whispered; 44 God bless you. 
Beryl!” 

Then he rose, and without another word — indeed, he 
could not have spoken one — caught up his hat, and went 
out. 

Beryl clasped her hands over her bosom, her lips were 
parted, and her blue eyes shone with a wonderful Tight. 

44 Oh!” she said, under her breath, 44 if I can save this 
one man — if I can make this one woman happy again, will 
it not be some atonement? It will be at least a golden 
gleam across the black night of my life.” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


133 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A DREAM OR A REALITY ? 

When Vere Lorraine once more took his way to Hanover 
Street, his mind was in a strange chaos, tossed up and 
down between warring elements of doubt and passion, 
resolved not to part from Beryl Carolan, yet knowing not, 
if even his doubt as to his own past were set at rest, how 
he could, in honor, give his name to a woman who refused 
him her confidence. That her reserve concealed guilt of 
her own was a thought that never for a moment came to 
torture him; but all the passionate strength of his love 
could not make him ignore the fact that a jarring note is 
struck across the perfect harmony of love between husband 
and wife when on either side there is a distinct withholding 
of trust and confidence. 

W ould Beryl hold to her determination, or could he pre- 
vail upon her to yield her standpoint? 

Miss Carolan was in her drawing-room, the servant said, 
and showed Lorraine straight up. 

Beryl was seated on a couch near the fire; but she rose 
up and came forward to meet the visitor with outstretched 
hand; but the moment the door closed behind the servant, 
Lorraine folded his arms about the girl, and strained her 
passionately to his heart. “ My darling!” he said, after a 
few moments, for at first there was not a word spoken 
between them; “it seems so long since we have been 
together. Has not the time been dreary to you, too, dear- 
est?” 

“Yes,” she said, clinging to him; “ I wanted you every 
hour — every minute; but, oh, I wish it was not so with 
you!” 

He knew what she meant, and held her closer to him. 

“ My own Beryl!” and his lips touched hers; “for my 
sake, don’t say that!” 

With a kiss on her lips, she could not answer; the wish 
died in her throbbing heart — the word was unuttered. She 
hid her face against him with a quick sob of paih. 

Lorraine soothed her tenderly till she had regained her 
self-command; then she looked up, and said, very low, 
almost in a whisper: 


134 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

“ Was it cruel to let you come, only to tell you that — 
that it must be for the last time?” 

“ It can not — shall not — be for the last time. Beryl,” 
said Lorraine, with strange quietness. “ Do you know 
what such terrible words mean for both of us?” 

“ Yes, I know,” she answered, her lips white and quiver- 
ing; “ but my resolve is made. I say, in no hyperbole, 
but in awful and literal truth, that I would sooner kill my- 
self than become your wife!” 

Lorraine suddenly released her from his arms and walked 
through the room; the girl, white and trembling, sunk 
into a chair. Presently her lover paused. 

“ You will not,” he said, “ give me your trust? You 
will tell me nothing of the past?” 

“ Nothing.” 

She did not even glance at him, but stared blankly into 
the fire. Lorraine looked at her for a moment, then he 
made one step and flung himself at her feet, wrapping her 
to his breast with passionate force. 

“ Oh, Beryl, Beryl, how shall I bear it? I can not put 
you from me — I can not!” 

But even that outburst of terrible agony, though it made 
the girl’s heart stand still and her very lips grow livid, 
did not shake her resolve. 

“ Vere,” she said, when she could speak, “ I can never 
forgive myself that I let you love me. TVhat would be 
my self-reproach if I let you ruin your life for my sake? 
I should not know an hour’s happiness. I shall always be 
true to you, Vere; in heart and soul I am yours, and I 
shall be yours even beyond the grave; but I can never, 
never be your wife. We must part.” 

“ No, by Heaven!” he said, holding her yet closer to 
him. “ Beryl, you try me too far; I am not an angel, but 
a man, and I love you!” 

A sudden tremor went through the girl’s frame. Lor- 
raine felt it, and lifted the face he had bowed on his 
breast. 

“ My own darling!” he said, “ did you fear me? I wor- 
ship you too truly to dream of wrong to you. But you 
must not ask me to put you wholly from me. I must 
hope — I must see you sometimes.” 

“ Vere, there is no hope.” 

4 4 Hush! I will not listen. We must meet sometimes; 


135 


> ' , i . , . i * > . - , ■ / 

SINNER OR VICTIM? 

you can not refuse me this. Beryl. Have I not the right 
to claim so much? Hoes not your own heart plead for 
me?” 

Could Beryl resist that appeal? Had not her lover, 
indeed, the right he claimed? And, ah! how wildly her 
breaking heart pleaded for this one solace — to see him 
sometimes — not to be utterly severed from him! Trem- 
bling, her heart a very tumult of strangely blended joy 
and sorrow, she clung to the man whose love infolded her 
life as his arms infolded her form, and her quivering lips 
met his. 

So was her answer given — so, for weal or for woe, did 
Beryl Carolan yield so much to her lover’s prayer, and con- 
sent that they should sometimes see each other. 

It was a long time before the silence between them was 
broken, and then Lorraine spoke very softly, telling Beryl 
that now he could wait with more patience, and surely he 
would one day be able to call her all his own; but she 
shook her head mournfully. 

“ It can never be,” she said. “ Oh, Yere, if you would 
only believe me when I say this!” 

Lorraine shuddered and bowed his head on her breast 
again with broken words that startled her. 

“ If I could only know — great Heaven!— if I could only 
know the truth!” 

It was clearly not of her past that he spoke; of what, 
then? Beryl laid her hand caressingly on the dark head. 

“ What truth, Yere?” she said, steadily. 

He raised his hueless face. 

“ Don’t ask me now!” he said, huskily, “ another time 
I may be able to tell you; not now! I think it must have 
been a dream.” 

“ A dream? Something that happened to } 7 ou, Vere?” 

“ Ay, years ago, when I was in Australia.” 

“ And you will not tell me now?” Beryl said, a little 
wistfully. 

He did not answer her at once, and the girl added : 

“ Forgive me, I did not mean to pain you; and you 
know it is no doubt of you that made me ask; but I have 
no right to your confidence, withholding mine.” 

“ Dearest! not such words — you pain me by uttering 
them — not by the question you asked, and you have a 
right to ask it. Beryl.” 


136 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

He paused a moment, and, held so close to him, she felt 
that he trembled. 

4 4 Another time/’ she whispered— 4 4 as you said; not 
now.” 

44 Best now, perhaps, darling,” Lorraine answered. 44 It 
was cowardice to wish to defer it; but the thought of that 
time has haunted me like a nightmare ever since. I dream 
of it; it forces itself upon my waking thoughts, and there 
is ever a cloud which no effort of mine can clear away.” 

He rose to his feet and began walking up and down the 
room. Beryl said not a word; she only watched him with 
a strange wistfulness in her violet eyes. Presently he 
came back to her and threw himself down beside her, 
clasping her hands in his. 

44 I am always striving, striving,” he said, that latent 
look of suffering which was always in his dark eyes deep- 
ened to actual agony, 44 to remember what happened to me 
in those weeks when I was ill and helpless. Sometimes a 
word, a sentence, sounds familiar to me — so it was the 
other night — and yet I can not link things together; or 
say 4 This was said to me/ or 4 1 heard, this/ it is as if I 
had dreamed it; and yet there is so often the impression 
that it was no dream, but an actual experience.” 

44 And yet,” Beryl said, as he paused, 44 sick people have 
such strange fancies — visions that seem to them at the 
time so real, that you may be torturing yourself with 
nothing but a vague memory of some such fancies or 
visions.” 

44 1 try to believe that, Beryl— sometimes I succeed in 
believing it; but never for long together; the old horrible 
doubt returns, and then I blame myself that I let the 
doubt trouble me. Well! you don’t know }~et what I 
am talking of.” 

Beryl laid her golden head against him, and the trust- 
ing, tender action moved him so deeply that for a minute 
or two lie could not speak. He bent down and pressed a 
fervent kiss on her brow. When he spoke, his voice was 
very low, and at first a little unsteady: 

44 It was ten years ago, Beryl* when I went to Australia. 
I had traveled all the beaten ground, and I wanted some- 
thing new; so I sailed for Sydney, and from there went on 
into the interior. I was alone, but armed to the teeth, 
and they told me the country was safe. Besides, I was 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


137 


always rather reckless, and I had been through too many 
wild regions unharmed to have learned much caution. I 
had a good horse — one I had bought in Sydney — and was 
making for a place called Barra Creek, about sixty miles 
up country, where I heard there was a splendid waterfall. 
I was approaching Barra Creek the second day after I left 
Sydney, for I took my time over the ride, enjoying the 
scenery, and it was near midnight — a glorious" night — 
when I entered upon a stretch of bushland (easy ambush), 
so I kept a lookout, but not a very strict one; and it was 
not much use, for twenty men could have hidden within 
a few yards of me without my being able to see them. 
And suddenly I heard a whiz, then felt a sharp pain in my 
side, and I just remember reeling in the saddle — that was 
all. 

“ Next, I was lying on a couch, or bed, with a burning 
pain in my side, and feeling as if my head was on fire. I 
was in high fever, and I suppose delirious. I knew after- 
ward (not then) that I was. in a log-cabin belonging to a 
settler, but who or what he was I never knew. 1 have a 
vague impression of once seeing a rough-looking man — 
the impression came back to me the other night — ” 

“ Where? — when?” asked Beryl, not lifting her head. 

“ At the Rodens’. Enid was describing a play they had 
seen, in which a pirate threatens the hero — * I’ll put a 
bullet in your heart 3 were the words, or nearly the words. 
They struck me with an actual shock. Beryl. For a few 
moments I felt dazed; I seemed to lose all sense of my real 
surroundings, and to see a rough room, such as I was in, 
and a man standing near me. 1 don’t know why I con- 
nected the words or the man with me; I can’t remember 
hearing such words, but they sounded familiar, and they 
brought the vision of that place as clearly before my men- 
tal view as if I had seen it with my physical sight.” 

“ How strange!” said Beryl, slowly, as her lover paused. 
“ But this man— did he nurse you?” 

“ Ah! no.” He drew a long, silent breath and spoke 
the next words with an evident effort. “ There w r as a 
girl — a child almost — I owed my life to her. Sweetheart,” 
for Beryl instinctively clung closer to him; he bent over 
her and once more his lips sought hers, “ never dream that 
Nina was more to me than one to whom I owed deep grati- 
tude. I had no distinct sense of her personality. I only 


138 


Qimm OR VICTIM ? 


once saw her — to know that I saw her, and then it was in 
semi-darkness, and her features were further hidden by a 
shawl she had drawn over her head and round her face. 
Moreover, I was not even then in full possession of my 
faculties. What she was among such people as those 
wild, lawless settlers, Heaven knows; but to me she was 
devotion’s self. Poor Nina! Heaven help her — and me!” 

“ And you?” repeated Beryl under her breath. 

Lorraine pressed the golden head closer against his heart. 

“ Because,” he answered, after a pause, “ I am some- 
times haunted by the fear that Nina was my wife.” 

“ Your wife!” Beryl started up with wild, startled eyes. 
“ Vere, what can you mean?” 

“Beryl — Beryl!” cried Lorraine, passionately, “don’t 
shrink from me! So,” wrapping her to his breast again, 
“ have faith in me still, darling. Before Heaven, if mar- 
riage there was, it was a mockery, even if the priest were 
indeed a priest, for I knew not what I did — I was almost 
in a stupor — nay, I can not believe it was reality — it must 
have been a dream!” 

“ And if not a dream, a cruel fraud!” said Beryl. 
“ But tell me — how did it seem to you? Do you recall a 
marriage with this girl as one recalls a dream?” 

“Not so clearly. It seems to me as if some one — it 
might have been Nina, or any one else — were standing by 
me, her hand in mine, and then words of the marriage 
service were spoken — I know not whether all or only part — 
and a ring was taken from my little finger — that assuredly 
was no fancy, for the ring was stolen, whether then or at 
some other time. It was one I specially valued, for it had 
belonged to my mother — a gold hoop with a single opal set 
in it. I put that ring on Nina’s finger, so it seemed to me, 
and I can not remember any more, even as a dream. Was 
it — could it be reality?” 

“Surely a dream or a fancy,” said Beryl. “What 
motive could they have for forcing on you such a mar- 
riage, unless it were for the sake of your money, and then 
the girl would have claimed you.” 

“Nay, she might not. It was only through her that I 
escaped.” 

“Yes? Goon, Vere.” 

“ It must have been days after that dream, if dream it 
was,” Lorraine went on, “that I can recall feeling 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


139 


strangely calm and free from pain. I had that kind of 
consciousness which often belongs . to an early stage of 
recovery from illness. I knew things in a vague and misty 
way, and as if some one else was looking on at me, not as 
if 1 personally had any impression mental or physical. It 
did not seem to matter to me what became of me. I had 
no memory of the past — no thought for the future. I saw 
the rough walls of the cabin, the beams across the roof, 
the table and chairs, and other things. Three people were 
standing in a corner in the shadow; one was Nina, the 
other two were men. I could not see more than that. 
She was talking to them in a whisper, and presently she 
came up to me and knelt down before me. I thought she 
was weeping, and perhaps in the instinct of giving comfort, 
and feeling, half in a stupor though I was, that 1 owed my 
life to her, I bent forward to kiss her, but she started up 
with a cry like a wounded creature. Poor child!” His 
lips quivered, his soft voice grew husky. “ It has been an 
added pain to me, Beryl — the fear that I may have un- 
wittingly won that poor girPs heart.” 

“ It would be strange,” said Beryl, tremulously, 44 if she 
did not learn to love you!” 

4 4 My own love! it may seem easy to you to love me. 
And then Nina was a mere child; she would soon forget. 
The two men came up to me almost at once, and lifted me 
up and carried me out. I was put into some conveyance, 
and for hours afterward I was conscious of moving on- 
ward — sometimes smoothly, sometimes jolting, and at last 
I was lifted out and carried into some house. 

44 When full and clear consciousness came to me, l was 
in the house of a doctor in a town some miles from Sydney. 
I asked him how I came to be where I was, and he told me 
that he knew nothing; I had been brought there, and 
placed in his care. And nobly he cared for me. He knew 
my name; but without that he would have treated me with 
the same kindness. On his side he questioned me; but I 
thought it best, for poor Nina’s sake, to remain silent, even 
about what I could remember. 1 told him I had been 
wounded by bushrangers, and nursed in some cabin, but I 
preferred not to say anything that could cause evil to those 
who had sheltered me and saved my life. 

44 So soon as I was able, I returned to England. I had, 
naturally, no desire to claim as a wife the daughter of a 


HO 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


bushranger — supposing that the marriage were not a sick 
man's fancy or a sham. Maybe the child is dead no 
better dead than to grow up among the ruffians of such a 
settlement as Barra Creek. That is all, Beryl; I have 
kept nothing back. You know now what is the phantom 
that so often haunts me, which, while my reason repels jit, 
makes my heart sometimes quail.” 

Beryl laid her soft, flushed cheek to his. 

“ Thank you so much — oh, so much,” she whispered, 
‘‘for telling me! But, Vere, why let this dread haunt 
you? If there were a marriage, these people could hardly 
prove it.” 

“ I can not tell; they might have witnesses all ready to 
swear that I was in full possession of my senses. But 
assuredly I would never acknowledge a wife forced upon 
me — a woman, too, of probably criminal birth and ante- 
cedents, and whose life has most likely been what the lives 
of girls so trained in evil usually are.” 

Beryl bowed down her head against him in silence, and 
Lorraine had no will to break that silence. He only 
stooped, and lifting the girl's face from his breast, laid his 
lips to hers; and that kiss sealed the present and claimed 
the future. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

ANOTHER MYSTERIOUS ROBBERY. 

Once more Justin Harwood was able to “ receive,” and 
the salon in Hanover Street was opened again. The 
Athenians rejoiced; but at the Maple Tree there was less 
satisfaction, for not a few of the exiled “Hanoverians” 
took refuge at the club in St. James’s Place, and lost their 
hundreds there, instead of in Harwood’s salon. 

One morning, while several men at the Athenian were 
rejoicing over the renewal of the old state of things, and 
the prospect of seeing la belle Oarolan again that evening, 
Enid Roden drove to Norfolk Street to see Emilie 
Gresham. Enid had always been fond of Emilie, but her 
affection had of late been even more pronounced than for- 
merly. Was it, Emilie asked herself, with a secret smile, 
because Yere Lorraine’s name so ofte^ came on the tapis? 

Emilie must have seen her young iriend drive up; for 
as the door was opened to Enid, Mrs. Gresham hurried out 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


141 


into the hall, but with a scared, troubled look blending 
with the welcome of eyes and lips. 

a Oh, Enid!” -she cried, “ 1 am so glad to see you, 
dear! Such a dreadful thing has happened!” 

“ Oh, Emmie! what?” exclaimed Enid, scared in her 
turn. 

“ I don't mean death, or anything like that. Come in 
here, and I’ll tell you all about it.” 

She drew Enid into the morning-room, and closed the 
door. 

“ Sit down,” she said, putting Enid into a chair, but 
herself too excited to sit still. “ I have been robbed last 
night — robbed of a quantity of jewels and about two hun- 
dred pounds in bank-notes.” 

“ Emmie — no /” 

Enid was up like an India-rubber ball. 

“ But I say yes,” returned Mrs. Gresham. “ I have 
written to Vere to ask him to come as soon as he possibly 
can. I know he's in court all to-day, so he can’t anyhow 
come before the evening; but I’ve certainly been robbed, 
and the property was all in my dressing-room, too!” 

“ You might have been murdered, Emmie. Do you sus- 
pect a'ny one in the house?” 

“ Certainly not. Sit down again, and I’ll tell you all 
about it. I came home very late last night from a dance, 
and had told Lisette not to sit up for me. I laid the 
jewels I had worn on the toilet, where there always stands 
my jewel-case— you know it; and in it, in addition to the 
jewels, was this money. Lisette doesn't even know it was 
there, for I put it in myself yesterday evening, and had the 
key with me. Well, this morning, when I was getting 
up", Lisette came in and said, 4 Madame, where is your 
jewel-case?' I ran into the dressing-room. The case was 
gone!” 

“ Oh, Emmie!” breathed Enid, too horrified for many 
words. 

“ Bodily gone!” repeated Emilie. “ Now, I locked the 
dressing-room door before I went to bed; so the thief, who- 
ever he was, must have actually concealed himself in the 
room.” 

“ Oh! horrible, Emilie; it must have been one of the 
servants.” 


142 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


7 

“ I can not think that, Enid. They have all been a loti g 
time with me. Well, listen. Of course there was a ter- 
rible commotion, and I sent for the butler and the footman 
to inquire if any one had come to the house; if any of [the 
girls had had a 4 young man ’ about the place, or liot. 
Stephen told me that about seven o’clock in the evening, 
shortly after I had left the house, he opened the door to a 
man, whom he described as a gentleman dressed something 
like a clergyman. He asked for me, and Stephen/ not 
knowing whether I had yet gone, asked for the visitor’s 
card, and said he would see if I was at home. The clergy- 
man said he came from the East End, and the name on 
his card was the 4 Reverend Arthur Roberts.’ I don’t 
know any one of that name. Stephen left the hall for a 
minute or two, and when he returned the clergyman was 
gone. . Stephen was at first amazed; then he began to 
think it very odd; but he missed nothing from the hall, 
and probably thought no more about the matter. Now, I 
tell you what I think; that man was simply an expert thief; 
he knew 1 was out, and instead of going into the street, he 
had rushed upstairs when Stephen left him, and concealed 
himself m my dressing-room, and he may have left the 
house before I returned home. The hall-door closes very 
gently, and the servants below would be laughing and 
talking, and not notice anything short of a loud bang.” 

Enid sat staring at her friend, with horror in her brown 
e ^ 6S V £ erfcainl y not a pleasant- reflection that a des- 
perate burglar, to whom murder is simply a professional 
incident, may have been lying perdu in, or within easy 
reach of, one’s sleeping apartment; and it looked very much 
as if Emmie Gresham’s surmise were the correct one If 
u S1 5°, r , ™ally been a clergyman, he would not have 

bolted in the unceremonious manner Mrs. Gresham 
had described. Still, to both the ladies, knowing little of 
the extraordinary skill and swiftness of the higher order of 
belief '' a PP ear ®d almost too marvelous for 

“ But it would be such a risk!” exclaimed Enid. “ Sun- 
pose the man had met some one? He could not know 
every one was down-stairs.” 

“No, certainly; or that there was any place of conceal- 
ment m the dressing-room. He might have found out 
where the jew case was. Vere says that these thieves 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 143 

fraternize with gentleman’s servants at public-houses, and 
get a lot out of them.” 

I wonder whether Mr. Lorraine will agree with you 
aboit the thief?” said Enid. ‘‘You have sent to Scotland 
Yarl?” 

“ Twenty minutes ago. I expect a detective every min- 
ute. ’ 

“ Could Stephen describe the clergyman?” 

“ Only that he was elderly and had gray hair.” 

There was a knock at the door as. she spoke, and in a 
few minutes a quiet-looking man was ushered into the 
morning-room. He announced himself as Mr. Browning, 
from Scotland Yard. 

He asked a great many questions of Emilie which would 
never have occurred to that lady; among others, if any 
one besides her servants knew she kept her jewels in a case 
on her toilet? 

“No one,” she replied, “ except a few intimate personal 
friends.” 

“ And — er— Mr. Gresham, I suppose?” 

Emmie’s cheek flushed slightly. 

“ Yes,” she said, quietly, “ he did know it — but I don’t 
understand — ” 

“ Excuse me, madame, I meant no offense; but of 
course we are obliged to look at everything; and you can 
not imagine the tricks some of these burglars are up to. 
They — some of ’em — manage to get among swell people at 
race-courses and the like, and then they’ll get chatting 
with gentlemen, and find out things the gentlemen ’ud 
never think they’d spoken about at all.” 

Emilie’s color deepened, knowing that her husband was 
not always particular in his selection of companions. 

“ Could I see Mr. Gresham?” asked the detective. 

“ I don’t think he could throw any light on the matter,” 
returned Emilie. “ My husband and I are separated; he 
does not live here. ” 

“ I beg your pardon, madame,” stammered poor Mr. 
Browning, turning scarlet, but Emilie came to his rescue. 

“ Shall I call up the servants?” she asked, turning to 
the bell. 

“ If — if you please, madame; I should like to question 
them — but separately, please.” 

Emmie had not thought of that. 


144 


SIOTEE OK VICTIM ^ 


Stephen came in first, and told his story straightforwardly 
enough. The detective questioned him very keenly; but 
the man had nothing to conceal, and his face and mahier, 
and the consistency of his account all evidenced that he 
was speaking the truth. I 

The other servants passed through the ordeal with e&ual 
success, and when they were all gone, Mr. Browiing 
turned to Emilie: ! 

44 I don’t think it’s any one in the house, madame/’ he 
said. 44 May I see the dressing-room?” 

Emilie and Enid went up with him, and he made a sur- 
~vey and took some notes. 

The numbers of the bank-notes Mrs. Gresham could not 
supply; woman-like, she had omitted to take them down, 
but she gave a description of the missing jewels, which she 
valued at very nearly one thousand pounds. 

44 Have you any idea of the thief?” she asked; 44 any 
clew?” 

The man shook his head. 

44 I’m inclined to think, Mrs. Gresham,” he said, 44 that 
it’s the same man who has committed two or three other- 
clever robberies. You’ll have heard of a robbery some three 
months ago down at Esher? The family were at dinner. 
The man must have been a regular catamount to get up to 
the dining-room window; but he walked off with about 
two thousand pounds’ worth of jewels.” 

44 He must have had accomplices,” said Emilie. 

Mr. Browning smiled. 

44 No, ma’am, that’s it. My belief is that he works 
alone. Accomplices, sooner or later, 4 blow on ’ each 
other. If a man is clever enough to work alone, then lie’s 
wise to have no pals. Well, ma’am, we’ll do our best; 
and you’ll let us know the moment you hear of anything?” 

Of course the evening papers had a sensational and by 
no means correct description of a 44 Daring Robbery in the 
West End,” and before six o’clock Emilie bad told the 
story of her loss fully fifty times to eager callers. 

At eight o’clock, when Mrs. Gresham was once more 
alone, feeling, naturally enough, very tired and very much 
worried, the drawing-room door opened gently, and Were 
Lorraine walked in. 


SIN2JER OR VICTIM? 


145 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

CROSS - QUESTIONED, 

44 Heard the news, Harwood?” 

44 What news?” 

The first speaker was an habitue of Hanover Street — 
Denman by name— a wealthy commoner, whose one pas- 
sion was gaming on the turf and at the tables. He was 
playing dice with Justin Harwood, while some of the men 
played cards at other tables, and others hovered around 
Beryl in the drawing-room; among the latter was Herbert 
Gresham. 

44 What news?” repeated Denman. 44 About the rob- 
bery at Mrs. Gresham's?” 

44 Hush! speak low,” said Harwood, quickly; 44 her hus- 
band’s in the next room. Robbery at Mrs. Gresham's?” 
he repeated, 44 this is the first I heard of it.” 

44 Haven't you seen an evening paper?” 

44 Ho; Beryl reads everything, but I don't. Tell me all 
about it.” 

Which Denman did, nothing loath. 

Harwood listened, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. 

44 That parson was the thief,” he said, 44 or more likely 
the footman cooked him up, and the robbery was from the 
people inside the house.” 

44 But they're old and faithful servants.” 

44 1 don’t believe in old and faithful servants,” said Har- 
wood, dryly; 44 their trustworthiness is in inverse ratio to 
their length of service. Haven’t all these fraudulent bank 
cashiers and managers of big firms been twenty and thirty 
years in the employ? Look out for squalls, say I, when a 
man has served you more than ten years.” 

44 A cynical statement.” 

44 Truth is cynical,” said Harwood, throwing sixes. He 
often threw sixes, he was a singularly lucky hand. 

In the drawing-room the men could not say much about 
the robbery, because of Herbert Gresham’s presence; but 
presently Beryl drew him aside, to show him, she said, 
some etchings which had been lately given to her, and as 
she bent over the little table on winch the portfolio lay, 
she said in a low voice: 


146 


SINNER Oil VICTIM? 


“ I am so sorry, so very sorry about the robbery of your 
wife’s jewels.” 

“ So am I,” he answered, “ and I can’t help thinking 
one of the servants is the thief.” 

“ You mean— you don’t suppose the imaginary clergy- 
man could have known where the jewels were kept?” 

“ Well, how should he know?” 

“ Anything may be discovered from servants; and then, 
you knew, didn’t you?” 

“ I? — yes; but,” with a half laugh, “ I don’t associate 
with thieves.” 

Beryl turned over one or two etchings before she said : 

“ You don’t know what disguises thieves assume. You 
may have mentioned these jewels unguardedly, and been 
overheard.” 

“But I am sure I never have; I don’t believe I ever 
spoke of the jewels except once, and that was here.” 

Beryl’s pale cheek changed color — just a faint tint 
flushed it. 

“ Not to me,” she said, quietly. 

“No, no,” said Gresham, divining her thought; “ it 
was to Mr. Harwood.” 

“To Justin?” in a tone of surprise. “What in the 
world could bring such a subject on the tapis V 9 

“ Oh, I forget now; I can’t remember what led up to 
it; but I said keeping jewels and valuables in a dressing- 
room, as my wife did, was a foolish habit. Oh, I remem- 
ber — it was a propos of that Esher robbery, when the thief 
got in at the dressing-room window.” 

“ I read about that. Oh, well, one must not drive 
things to extremes; but it’s generally wisest to keep a close 
tongue about such things. In this case, the robber might 
have discovered all he needed from the servants. The 
police don’t seem to have any clew?” 

“Not the slightest. I doubt if any of tho jewels will 
be recovered.” 

“ So do I. Were there any she had specially valued?” 

“ I don’t know. I hope not.” 

He said it in a tone that he would not have used once 
about his wife. There was real feeling, evident pain and 
regret, and it gave Beryl renewed hope. She was silent 
for a minute or two, and when she next spoke it was about 
the etchings; and presently she turned away, and they 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


147 


rejoined the men, who had been wondering what Beryl 
Carolan could have to say tsfcGresh that she granted him a 
quattr ochi, for she rarely showed favor to any one. 

But why did Beryl when, a little later, she found herself 
alone for a minute, steal away to the little boudoir where 
Lorraine had first told her he loved her, and sink down, 
covering her face with a passionate, voiceless cry? 

“ How can I bear it? Oh, Madonna mia, how can I 
bear it? It is killing me! And, oh, would that I were 
dead!” 

She dropped her hands with a start, hearing a step; but 
it passed by. She sat gazing fixedly before her. 

44 Why is it such a sin,” she half whispered, “to take 
one’s own life? Would it not save him ? — save me from 
temptation? Ah, no, no! Suicide is but a coward’s refuge. 
If I can die for him, can not I also live and suffer for him? 
But, oh, life is so cruel — so cruel!” 

She rose up presently, and returned to the drawing- 
room, and then sauntered into the card-room, but, as 
always, refused to play. 

About three a. m. the last guest departed, and Beryl and 
Harwood were alone. He laid his head back on the couch 
on which he was reclining, and closed his eyes. 

44 I am not quite myself yet,” he said. 44 I am tired. 
A blight on that young fool!” 

Beryl, who was sweeping up some of the cards and put- 
ting them away, observed, coolly: 

44 Lucky for you we are in London, and not in ’Frisco, 
or even Barcelona.” 

44 1 suppose you mean some one else would have finished 
the job? Well, even here. Delves might have done that if 
Lorraine had not interferred. That was generous, wasn’t 
it, eh?” with a short laugh. 

44 It was what you didn’t deserve, Justin.” 

44 You’re polite, my dear. Perhaps you wouldn’t have 
been sorry if the bullet had gone a little more straight?” 

She did not answer that, but tossing some cards into a 
drawer, came up to the table near which Harwood’s couch 
was placed, and stood leaning against it, looking down at 
her step-father, who had closed his eyes again. 

44 Justin!” she said. 

He opened his eyes and looked up. 


148 


SICKER OR VICTIM? 


“ Well?” he answered, shifting his glance at once from 
the steady gaze he encountered., 

“Do you want,” said Beryl, quietly; but Harwood 
hated that quiet manner of hers above all things — it was 
“ dangerous “ do you want to drive me to despera- 
tion?” 

“ Desperation?” he said, audaciously. “ What’s up 
now? What are you talking of?” 

“You know what I am talking of, Justin. Walls have 
ears. No need to mention names or define circumstances 
too clearly. Why can’t you let alone people so near 
home?” 

“ Why can’t I? Because I practice wherever I see an 
-.•opening. Sentiment and business don’t agree together. 
Beryl. I found that out long ago.” 

“ You!” with a scornful laugh. “ You had nothing to 
discover in that line. You must have been bad from the 
beginning. Heaven knows what evil strain there is in 
your nature; but you never had heart or principle. How- 
ever, I am only warning you.” 

“ Warning me?” he said, half raisinghimself. “ Threat- 
ening, you mean, and not for the first time. How often 
am I to tell you that you daren't play down on me!” 

“ Daren’t!” said Beryl, through her teeth. “ How do 
you know what I dare do — what I will do— if you drive me 
to it? Which of us two would suffer most if I used the 
power I hold? I am a necessity to you. Who would come 
to this salon if I were not here? But are you a necessity 
to me?” 

“ There— there!” said Harwood, shrinking and turning 
pale; “ let’s have no more words. What’s done can’t be 
undone— that’s flat, anyhow; and if I lost most in one way 
by your blowing the gaff, you’d lose all you’ve been play- 
ing for ever since we made the bargain!” 

“Don’t trust to that motive!” said Beryl, with that 
fierce blaze in her blue eyes Harwood had seen before. “ I 
tell you there are times when I feel that I could throw 
everything— everything— to the four winds— reveal the 
whole truth— and hide myself where I could never be 
found, or kill myself! My brain grows dizzy under the 
load it has to bear! You shall obey me in this, Justin, 
or, as sure as there is a heaven above us, I will not answer 
for what I may do!” 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 149 

She turned away and began pacing up and down the 
room. 

Harwood, who had grown paler and paler while she 
spoke, until his usually somewhat ruddy complexion was 
almost livid, watched her in silence. He was afraid of 
her, and whatever rage there was in his heart, he dared 
not give it utterance. Beryl, he knew, was not one to 
utter mere empty threats; she was perfectly capable of 
doing anything which she said she would or might do. 

Many women say things under the influence of strong 
passion, which, in a calmer moment, they would not 
dream of carrying out; but Beryl, even when she spoke in 
white heat, had always that dangerous underlying pas- 
sion — that steady, indomitable will, which remained 
unshaken by the storm above. 

Even a stranger would have received the impression that 
what this girl said, however passionate her utterance, she 
meant ; and Justin Harwood, though he understood 
Beryl's nature little enough, had at least proved by experi- 
ence that she was as different as possible from the ordinary 
run of women, and about as 44 ticklish a customer " — to 
put it in his own language — as any one could have to deal 
with. 

Presently Beryl came back to her old position. 

44 I don’t demand promises from you/’ she said; 44 they 
would be useless; I simply dictate terms. What you are 
afraid to do — from that you will abstain!" 

44 1 like your style!" said Harwood, trying to hide his 
anger and fear— but how ineffectually!— under banter. 
44 But how was I to know you would object to this par- 
ticular business?" 

44 Justin," said the girl, with that kind of carelessness 
which is the finest expression of utter contempt, 44 1 won- 
der you haven’t given up long ago lying to me! I don’t 
know why you do it; you can’t, for an instant, imagine 
you deceive me! Eh Men! you know now whom to let 
alone; don’t let such a thing occur again— that’s all! 
You have been warned, and so no more need be said!" 

She moved away, turning to the door. 

44 There has been too much said already!" growled Har- 
wood, as she opened the door; but Beryl made no answer. 

She quitted the room, leaving her step-father in posses- 
sion of the barren privilege of the last word. 


150 


SIHHER OR VICTIM? 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE PINK AMETHYSTS. 

A week passed, and still there was no clew to the robber 
of Emilie Gresham’s jewels. 

Lorraine, after examining the servants, had come to the 
conclusion that one of them was implicated. 

“It is the man made up as a clergyman,” he said; 
“ and so adroit a thief will not be easily caught.” 

And so Scotland Yard found. 

It was of course impossible for the busy Q. C. to give 
any time to thief-catching, or it might have gone hard with 
the clever operator. With ordinary detectives he doubt- 
less knew how to deal, and he succeeded in baffling all 
attempts to trace him. 

Fortunately for her, Emilie was rich; and though the 
loss was serious and annoying, it did not gravely affect her. 
Nor was she a woman to grieve very bitterly over a mere 
monetary loss which she was quite able to make good. 

But Vere presented her with a very beautiful set of 
pearls; and Enid, and May, and Mrs. Roden made her 
some handsome presents of jewels, as did other friends. 
Every one liked Emilie Gresham, and sympathized with 
her in her loss. 

One Saturday afternoon in March, Lorraine suddenly 
presented himself in Norfolk Street; and Emilie, who was 
practicing a new song at the piano, sprung up in a whirl 
of delight. 

“ Why, Vere!” she cried, running up to him — “ what 
an unlooked-for treat!” 

“ To me as well,” said he, kissing her affectionately. 
“ If you are disengaged, run and put on your hat and come 
with me to the Winter Exhibition at the Grosvenor. I 
promised to take you some day.” 

“ Oh, Vere, how good of you! But you shouldn’t im- 
molate yourself.” 

“ Do I immolate myself when I am with you, Emilie?” 
said Lorraine, putting his hands on her shoulders, and 
looking down into her earnest eyes. 

“ Forgive me, Vere ” — the tears came into her eyes — 
“ but I really meant it!” 


SINKEK OE VICTIM? 


151 

“ I know you did, dear; you are one of the few truthful 
people in the world. Now run off, and don't be half an 
hour dressing. We will walk down; it will do you much 
more good than driving." 

“ Oh, yes; and I never am half an hour dressing, Vere." 

“ Well, twenty-seven minutes, then!" 

Emilie shook her fist at him and went quickly out of the 
room. 

She returned triumphant within twenty minutes, 
habited in furs. 

“ Here I am," she said, courtesying. ‘ 4 What!" as 

Lorraine looked at his watch, “ have you been timing me?" 

“ Just seventeen minutes," said he, gravely. “ You 
really deserve a certificate of merit, Em." 

“ A gold medal!" 

“ H’m! Xou will come to that, I hope — " 

Before Emilie could reply, a servant entered with a 
small packet addressed to “ Mrs. Gresham." 

“ From whom?" she asked. 

“ A commissionaire left it, ma’am, and there was no 
message." 

The servant retired, and Emilie critically examined the 
address, but could not recognize the writing; nor did Lor- 
raine. 

“ Open the packet," he said, smiling, “ I know you are 
dying with curiosity. I can wait." 

He produced a penknife and cut the outer fastenings, 
and there was presently displayed a crimson plush jewel- 
case. Emilie opened it, and discovered within a superb set 
of pink amethysts. 

“ Oh," she exclaimed, under her breath, “ how lovely! 
But who sent them? There is no card." 

“It is an exquisite gift!" said Lorraine. “ Do you 
know of any one likely to make such a choice? Amethysts 
are not your favorite stones." 

“No—" 

Suddenly she paused — a flood of crimson rushed over 
cheek and brow. She sat down, feeling half dizzy with 
the emotion called up by the wild thought that had flashed 
across her. 

Vere, instantly divining that thought, said nothing (as 
was best), but only laid a light, tender hand on her 
shoulder. 


152 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


Emilie, her face still lower down, put up her hands and 
drew her cousin’s hand within them, clinging to it; and 
this seemed to help her to regain her self-command. 

“ Please forgive me,” she whispered, at length. “ It 
was so foolish of me to think that — at least, I did not 
think it; the idea flashed into my mind, that was all. 
They were his favorite stones, you know.” 

There were tears in Lorraine’s dark eyes as well as in 
Emmie’s, and hi§ soft voice was not quite steady as he bent 
over her. 

“ Dear Emmie,” he said, “ there was nothing foolish in 
the thought. It is possible he may have sent you this 
gift.” 

“ Yere — no — no, don’t tempt me!” cried Emmie, burst- 
ing into passionate weeping. 

He soothed her with all a brother’s loving tenderness, 
and when she was able to listen to him again, he said, 
gently: 

“ You have not forgotten, Emmie, the message Beryl 
Carolan gave to you?” 

“Forget it! Could I ever forget it? I can never 
think hardly of her after that,” said Emilie, fervently. 

Lorraine’s clasp closed almost convulsively over his cous- 
in’s hand as he spoke those words. It was the only sign 
of emotion he gave, and perhaps she only partially under- 
stood it. He went on: 

“ I have thought sometimes lately that Herbert is not 
quite what he used to be. Seldom though I see him, I 
have received that impression, and I have gathered, 
through veiled questioning of men who know him inti- 
mately, things about him which have given me hope — a 
hope too vague to utter to you; but now it seems only 
right to speak of it. ” 

“ Oh,” Emilie scarcely breathed, “ even that hope is like 
air when one is stifling! But if there is a change, to what 
influence can it be due? I was told he was infatuated with 
Beryl Carolan.” 

“Yet she may be his better angel, Emmie. Ah, you 
do not know her; and I only speak, as to facts, from an 
impression of my own.” 

“If it be so,” said Emilie, chokingly — “ if, through 
her, he should return to the better self he has so long cast 
from him, I will go to her and thank her on my knees!” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


153 


‘ ‘ Heaven bless you, Emmie!” said Lorraine, hoarsely; 
and turning away, he walked through the room. 

. Even his self-command gave way before those words of 
his cousin. But it was a brief struggle, if a sharp one. 

He turned back almost immediately. Emilie had risen 
to her feet. 

‘‘Thank you so much!” she said, lifting her tear- 
stained face, with a tremulous smile, to his. “ Now shall 
we go on?” 

“ Would you rather not, Emmie, dear?” 

“No; it will do me good, and I shall enjoy everything 
the more after what has passed.” 

She took, up the casket with a loving, caressing touch, 
and locked it away carefully; then she rejoined her cousin, 
and they went out together. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

AT THE GROSVENOR. 

It was one of those spring-like days which we sometimes 
have in early March, and which serve to cheat the unwary 
into doffing winter apparel, and then the next day brings 
a blustering north-easter and a finely developed attack of 
bronchitis to the unlucky wights who have abandoned fur 
for thinner materials. 

Emilie Gresham enjoyed the walk to Bond Street, which 
to her was a fair distance, for, like most fashionable ladies, 
she was a poor pedestrian. Not much was said on the 
way; the hearts of both were full; but there was too much 
sympathy between them for words to be necessary, and 
Emilie was happier to-day than she had been for many a 
month. 

The gallery was pretty full when the two reached it, and 
of course both knew so many people that hand-shakes and 
other greetings were continually passing. 

“ What, you , Mr. Lorraine!” cried the Countess of 
Lumley, bearing down full sail in a glory of velvet and 
sealskin. “ What a treat — you're surely not alone?” 

Emilie had turned aside to speak to a friend. 

“ No,” he said, smiling, “ my cousin, Mrs. Gresham, is 
with me.” 

“Indeed!” 

Lady Lumley did not know Emmie personally. 


154 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Have you been here before? Charming pictures, are 
they not?” she had not seen one of them. “ By the way, 

I saw your friends, the Rodens, in the next room— the two 
girls and Mrs. Roden. How pretty the eldest is — so 
charming!” 

Lorraine assented, and was glad when, after a minute or 
two, he was able, diplomatically and gracefully, to extri- 
cate himself from her voluble ladyship. 

4 4 That woman is a terror!” he said to Emilie. “ The 
chattering of a dozen jays is nothing to her tongue. By 
the way, she says the Rodens are in the next room.” 

“Are they?” exclaimed Emilie; “we must go and 
speak to them. That’s one advantage of the Grosvenor 
over Burlington House, you can easily find your friends.” 

“ Yes, but it has its reverse,” said Lorraine, smiling, 
“ they can so easily find you.” 

“ The poor countess! But you don’t want to avoid the 
Rodens?” 

“ Certainly not.” 

They passed on, looking at the pictures as they went, 
and presently entered the other room; and then May 
Roden, standing by Enid’s side, saw a sudden flush on her 
sister’s cheek, a sudden light flash over her whole face. 

Following Enid’s eyes. May beheld the cause of this 
change — the tall form and handsome features of Vere Lor- 
raine. 

“Why, Enid,” she said, “ mamma, there is Mr. Lor- 
raine with Mrs. Gresham.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Enid, as if she had not seen Lorraine 
before. 

And at the same instant Lorraine and his companion 
turned and crossed the room to meet their friends. 

“ Lady Lumley told me you were here,” said Lorraine, 
as he shook hands with Enid; and again did she accept that 
pronoun in the singular, though he had meant it in the 
plural. 

“Yes?” said Enid, scarcely knowing for the moment 
what else to say. “ Have you been here long?” 

“ About twenty minutes. Lord ’s Titian is in this 

room. Have you seen it yet?” 

“No, not yet. Is it so very fine?” 

“ A gem. Let me show it to you.” 

He led her away to where the picture hung, Enid’s heart 


SINISTER OR VICTIM? 


155 


beating happily with the thought that he only made this 
an excuse to have her more to himself; whereas Lorraine's 
motive was purely artistic, and he had not the remotest 
desire to appropriate Enid, nor any idea that she supposed 
he had. 

The Titian was all a blur to Miss Roden. She just man- 
aged to gather what the subject was, more from what Lor- 
raine said to her about it than from the canvas, and that 
was all. The veriest daub that ever was painted would 
have been the same to her as this glorious old Italian pict- 
ure glowing with the soft rich tints of the great master. 

“ It is very beautiful," she said, thinking only of the 
man by her side, while he looked at the picture with the 
deep pleasure of the art lover, and had well-nigh forgotten 
Enid. 

Presently she moved a step onward, and Lorraine, re- 
called from the Titian to Enid Roden, followed. 

“I like that," she said, pointing to a graceful but 
rather weak woman's head. “ Don't you?" 

“ Not very much, I confess. It wants vigor both in ex- 
pression and in drawing." 

“Ah! I am no judge of art," said Enid, half sighing. 
“ But 1 don't think a woman needs vigor so much as a 
man." 

The assertion was half a question, and a question diffi- 
cult to answer, for Lorraine held a directly contrary 
opinion, and vigor was not a salient characteristic of his 
pretty companion. He bit his lip under his mustache, 
but judged it wiser to ignore the question, and treat the 
remark simply as an expression of opinion. 

“ There are so many different views on that point," he 
said, smiling. “ Naturally, one would not regard vigor 
as the first essential in a woman." 

The answer did not quite satisfy Enid. Though not so 
quick-witted as her sister May, she could perceive that 
Lorraine had evaded the subject on which she wished to 
elicit his opinion. She felt vexed and wounded, and 
turned away almost pettishly, while Lorraine's attention 
was caught by a lovely female head by Carlo Dolce, the 
pose and face of which somehow reminded him of Beryl's, 
as well as the red gold of the clustering hair. 

“ Whom are all the people staring at?" suddenly said 
Enid's voice. 


156 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

Lorraine looked round. People were crowding, and 
whispering, and craning their necks to stare at some one 
or something near the door. The next moment the man's 
heart leaped up with a fierce throb of joy. It was but a 
glimpse he had caught of golden hair, a falling plume, but 
it was enough. He said, quietly: 

“ It is Miss Cardan.” 

“ Beryl Carol an?” 

The name fell mechanically from Enid's lips. She 
flushed and paled in a breath, and darted a swift, instinct- 
ive glance at her companion; but his face revealed nothing. 
Whether the advent of Beryl Carolan on the scene made 
any difference to him, Enid could not tell, and hope urged 
her to conclude that he was as indifferent to Beryl as a 
man ever is to very beautiful women. Yet jealousy was 
busy, too, at Enid's heart. Though she hardly recognized 
the chango-of feeling in herself, and certainly did not trace 
it to its real cause, her mental attitude toward Beryl was 
not what it used to be. It was not so long ago that, if not 
restrained, she would, on meeting Beryl, no matter where, 
have distinctly acknowledged her presence. Now she felt 
embarrassed. She did not want to “ cut ” her some-time 
friend and favorite, but she shrunk from being brought 
face to face with her, so that there was no alternative but 
to greet or give the “go by,” though probably Beryl's 
pride and diplomacy would be equal to the occasion. 

Lorraine, of course, saw Enid's difficulty, though he had 
no intention himself of passing Beryl unrecognized, should 
they meet; and, indeed, he would seek her out and speak 
to her. 

“ Shall we come this way?” he said. “ There are some 
of Tintoretto’s you ought to see.” 

They moved onward, and Enid kept her eyes religiously 
fixed on the pictures, which she did not see. She felt her 
cheeks burning, and jealous pangs shot through her heart 
as she heard the remarks of by-standers: 

4 4 How beautiful she is! — what a smile!” 

“ C’est un priii temps /” said one man, quoting Sarcey's 
encomium on the smile of Mademoiselle JReichemberg. 

Lorraine looked, and saw Beryl full now; but she was 
^not looking his way; she was talking to Anatole Marceau, 
who accompanied her, while half a dozen men hung about 
her steps. 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


157 


The girl was dressed entirely in a suit of dark but pale 
moss-green plush, the only relief being the cream-hued 
feathers in the graceful Restoration hat; and was there any 
picture on the walls, rich in female loveliness, to vie with 
her? Lorraine thought — and not he alone. 

44 I can't take my eyes off her,” said Emilie Gresham to 
May; and she added, within herself: 44 If I feel so, I won- 
der how it is with Vere?” 

4 4 1 wish I could speak to her,” said May, who only 
wanted a word of encouragement; but that word she did 
not get from Emilie. 

44 You mustn't do it, dear,” she said; 44 and it would not 
be a kindness to Miss Carolan — she has distinctly broken off 
all friendship — you would only put her in a painful posi- 
tion, and make Mrs. Roden very angry. Besides, some of 
the men about her — ” 

Emilie paused. 

44 Oh, I know I mustn’t,” said May, hastily, with a 
choking feeling in her throat; 44 but I wish I could, all the 
same. There are Enid and Mr. Lorraine over there; let's 
join them.” 

Which they did; and Lorraine, after a moment, turned 
away, with a word of apology, to speak to Beryl. 

She was standing before a group of Salvatore Rosa's, 
and turned round even before she could have seen Lor- 
raine approaching. Did some other than an outward sense 
tell her when he was near? 

44 Ah! Mr. Lorraine,” she said, with a smile, holding 
out her hand. 44 1 saw you some minutes ago.” 

How close his clasp of that little hand only she could 
know. 

44 1 came here with my cousin Emmie,” he answered, 
44 and we met the Rodens. Monsieur Marceau, are you a 
lover of old masters?” 

44 Not he,” said Beryl; 44 he is my escort, that’s all; and 
I have had to tell him half a dozen times not to chatter 
when I am looking at the pictures.” 

44 Then must I, too, be silent while you study that Sal- 
vatore?” asked Lorraine, a little quizzically. 

44 You!” Just one flash from the violet eyes into the 
dark hazel eyes. 44 You don't chatter.” And then, almost 
under her breath, with an inexpressible softness of tone: 
44 And if you did, I should never ask you to be silent.” 


158 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


How the man’s heart throbbed within him! But who 
would have divined this who looked in his face? Here, in 
this crowd, Yere Lorraine and Beryl Carolan were only 
acquaintances; at the outside, friends. 

“ Poor me!” said Anatole, with a dramatic sigh. “ Mr. 
Lorraine, Beryl is very cruel to me!” 

“You have your remedy,” said she, laughing — “ avoid 
me!” 

“ Ah! that I can not do.” 

“ Then you have nothing to complain of; I never can 
help teasing you, Anatole, mon cher ! Mr. Lorraine, look 
at this Giotto; is it not lovely?” 

“ Isswill try to look at it,” he said in a low tone, as 
they moved onward a little, to get a better view of the 
picture. 

“You must not only try,” said the girl, half archly, 
“ for I want your opinion. By the way, I hear that May 
Roden’s portrait is finished. Have you seen it?” 

“Yes; and it is one of the best things Hazlemere ever 
did; a perfect likeness, too.” 

nd that the picture is one of his 



picture is one ot his 
ile hovering on her 


curious smiJ 


lips. “ Can’t you?” 

Lorraine glanced at her, and smiled too. 

“ What made you think — what you do think, Beryl?” 

“ A good many things. I won’t ask you ii it is so; it 
may be a mattter of confidence between you and him; but 
what do you suppose le pere et la mere would say to him?” 

“ I think her happiness will carry the day; though they 
may offer some opposition.” 

“ I hope it will; if not, they will be greatly to blame 
for throwing her in the way of a good-looking, attractive 
fellow like Hazlemere. Now, I must not keep you from 
your cousin and the others.” 

“ They can spare me for a few minutes longer. I must 
come and see you soon.” 

“ Yes, if you wish it,” said Beryl, with a catch in her 
breath. 

They were standing a little apart now from the crowd, 
so that, by speaking very low, their words, amid the gen- 
eral buzz of voices and footsteps, could not be overheard. 

“You have my promise,” the girl added. 

“ Is that all. Beryl? Am I merely exacting a pledge?” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


150 


“ No — no! I want only too much to keep my word — 
you know that!” 

“ My own love! yes, I know it; but I could not resist 
the happiness of making your lips again confess it. Tell 
me when 1 am likely to find you alone?” 

“ I am not often alone,” Beryl said, bitterly; “ that is a 
boon denied to me. Come to-morrow at half past two. I 
am not at home until four o’clock.” 

44 Thanks, a thousand times. Well, if I can not stay 
long with you, it is at least a glimpse of paradise; it is 
something to be even under the same roof with you.” 

He shook hands with her, outwardly like an ordinary 
friend, and raising his hat, turned away to rejoin the 
Bodens and Emilie Gresham. 

“ Beryl likes well enough to keep such a man as Lor- 
raine by her side,” thought Enid, who had joined her 
mother. “ What can everybody think of her? And all 
the people staring at her as they do! She doesn’t seem 
to care one bit! They will say all sorts of things of Lor- 
raine if he talks to her like that in public!” 

“ Where is Mr. Lorraine now?” said Mrs. Boden, pres- 
ently, eyeglass in eye. “ He has left Miss Carolan.” 

“ Oh! has he?” said Enid, with extraordinary indiffer- 
ence. 

“ It would have been quite enough, I think,” said Mrs. 
Boden, “ to have shaken hands with her and said a few 
words. He need not talk to her for ten minutes, as he 
did.” 

“ Well, mamma,” observed Enid, rather offended than 
conciliated by the suggestion that she was neglected, 
“ Mr. Lorraine was not with us; he met us only by 
chance; and as to Emmie, they are like brother and sis- 
ter.” 

“ I dare say, too,” added Mrs. Boden, “ Miss Carolan 
was not disposed to let him off so easily. She is an ex- 
traordinary beautiful woman, and she knows her power.” 

A vague wave of doubt crossed Enid’s mind and held 
her silent; but she tried to reject the doubt as a wrong to 
both Lorraine and Beryl. Her very jealousy, too, made 
her unwilling to think that the man she loved was seriously 
fascinated with another woman; but a doubt, once enter- 
tained, is not so easily got rid of; and that night, in the 
solitude of her own apartment, Enid found herself ques- 


160 


SINISTER OR VICTIM? 


tioning why Beryl should be altogether above temptation — 
why Yere Lorraine should not succumb to the influence of 
a creature so richly endowed with that 44 fatal gift of 
beauty " which has wrought havoc in men’s lives, and in 
the peace of nations, from Helen downward? 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A WARNING UNHEEDED. 

Mr. Harrington, or 44 Father Bernard," as he was 
familiarly called among his flock, was far too busy and 
earnest a parish priest to^ind much time for visiting 
among his equals. 

44 Those who want to see me," he said, 44 must come to 
see me in the limited time I have for seeing my friends; it 
is impossible for me to go to them." 

But it happened one day he was obliged to come to the 
West End about some books required for the church, and 
also to call upon a brother priest in Kensington, to give 
him the particulars of certain guilds to form a model for 
the latter to work upon. On reaching his friend’s house, 
however, he found that the clergyman had been suddenly 
summoned to a dying parishioner. It then occurred to 
Mr. Harrington to call on the Rodens; and indeed he was 
glad of the opportunity of doing so, for he had an ulterior 
object in view. 

When he entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Roden came 
forward with cordial greeting. 

44 This is indeed an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Harring- 
ton," she said. 4 4 1 had given up all hopes of persuading 
you to come to see us." 

44 1 have been obliged to deny myself that pleasure," he 
answered, 44 for I can scarcely ever get away from my 
parish; but being in your neighborhood to-day," I ventured 
to call." 

44 1 am grateful to the business that brought you," said 
Mrs. Roden. 44 The girls will be so sorry ; they have gone 
to-day to a concert with Mrs. Gresham, and will finish the 
evening at her house." 

44 I must hope to see them another time," said Mr. Har- 
rington, too punctiliously truthful to say he was sorry to 
miss seeing them to-day; for, indeed, their presence would 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


161 


have been fatal to the main purpose of his visit. 44 I sup- 
pose Mrs. Gresham has heard nothing of her lost jewels?” 

4 4 No; I am afraid the affair will remain, like our loss, a 
mystery. Mr. Lorraine does not think it was any one in 
the house; and it is certain the supposed clergymaan was 
an impostor, for there is no man of the name he gave 
among the East End clergy.” 

44 No, there is not. Fortunately, Mrs. Gresham will not 
feel her loss as many would. Have you seen Mr. Lor- 
raine lately?” 

44 He dined with us yesterday evening,” replied Mrs. 
Roden, ignoring the meeting at the Grosvenor. She did 
not want Mr. Harrington to imagine that Beryl Cardan 
was in any sense a rival to Enid Roden, and her hopes had 
risen again with last evening. 44 He will be at Mrs. 
Gresham's to-night,” she added, smiling. 

The priest smiled too. 

44 Perhaps,” he said, 44 he finds there 4 metal more 
attractive ' than in even his cousin Emilie,” 

44 Well, I think so. He certainly seems to take pleas- 
ure in Enid's society, and I am sure he would make any 
woman happy.” 

44 If he loved her,” said Mr. Harrington; 44 and, per- 
haps, if he did not— always supposing her not to be very 
exacting.” 

44 Why, Mr. Harrington,” said his hostess, stretching 
out her hand to the bell to ring for tea, 44 have you the 
romantic opinion about marriage, that people must be 
what is called 4 in love ' with each other to be happy?” 

44 To be happy— and to be safe,” replied the priest, 
gravely; 44 that is, if they are people of strong feeling. 
Yes, I am afraid I must plead guilty to what you call a 
romantic opinion. If I had a daughter, I would not give 
her to such a man as Lorraine unless he loved her— as he 
can love; a mild affection would not do.” 

Mrs. Roden looked at the speaker in surprise. Her 
gamut of emotion was within an octave, and her idea of 
marriage strictly conventional. 

44 You do not mean,” she said, 44 that he would neglect 
his wife?” 

44 Certainly not, so far as I know him. I should say he 
would try his utmost to make her happy; but, you know, 
in some characters there are no medium lights, and Lor- 

t o 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


102 

raine’s is one of those. His own life would be a torture to 
him if he could not give a full and perfect love, and his 
high sense of honor would make existence, under such con- 
ditions, more difficult for him than for men without con- 
science; and then there is always the danger of tempta- 
Tion.” 

“ Y-yes,” assented Mrs. Roden, who did not very 
clearly comprehend Mr. Harrington's views. 44 But don’t 
you think a woman can, in the end, always by her devo- 
tion, win love?” 

44 A perilous experiment after marriage; it should come 
before, when failure need not be disastrous. I can not 
assent to the 4 always;’ it appears to me — pardon me — a 
conventional idea. I have known more than one life 
wrecked on the supposition that love invariably begets 
love.” 

44 Are you saying all this,” asked Mrs. Roden, after a 
pause, 44 a propos f” 

44 Forgive me — only as a warning. I mean this — you 
must pardon me for saying so much — that Yere Lorraine 
is a man capable of an extraordinary depth and strength 
of love. If he could give that to the woman he would 
marry, well and good; if not, the marriage would be a hor- 
rible mistake.” 

44 You speak strongly. But,” said Mrs. Roden, a little 
nettled at what seemed to her throwing doubt on Enid’s 
capacity to call forth such passion, 44 may he not so love 
Enid?” 

44 He may, Mrs. Roden; I can not tell;” but in his heart 
he said, 44 Heaven forbid!” 

44 But in any case,” continued the lady, 44 few people 
love in that fashion; and yet the world goes on pretty 
well. ’ ’ 

44 It all depends,” said Mr. Harrington, dryly , 44 on what 
one means by 4 pretty well.’ But in any case ” — this last 
to himself — 44 Yere Lorraine must not marry Enid Roden!” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A BLOCK IN THE STRAND. 

While Bernard Harrington was troubled with the fear 
that Vere Lorraine was learning to love Enid Roden, Enid 
herself could not shake off the jealous doubts that oppressed 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


163 


her; and as mischief never lacks company, two or three 
things that came to her ears— bits of idle gossip about 
Beryl and Yere Lorraine — tended to feed the flame that 
was burning in poor Enid’s heart. 

When, a few days after that unlucky Saturday at the 
Grosvenor, Lorraine dined in Kensington Gore, the girl’s 
doubts and fears were for the time almost lulled to rest. 
She yielded to the fascination of Lorraine’s actual pres- 
ence, and that subtle influence which he exercised over 
most people was, naturally, ten times more potent with the 
woman who had already given him her heart; but when he 
was gone, when Enid was alone in her chamber at night, 
she was “ hope-lifted, doubt-depressed,” now recalling 
something in Lorraine’s tone and manner to herself to 
which her imagination gave a wholly false significance; 
now remembering how he had lingered by Beryl’s side at 
the Grosvenor; and that “ it was said ” he was often in 
Hanover Street, and “ it was said ” this thing and that; 
and “Beryl is cruel!” sobbed Enid. “Why must she 
have every man at her feet? What does she care for Vere 
Lorraine? She likes to be worshiped, she likes dominion, 
that’s all, and she’ll throw him over as she has others.” 

Oh, Enid, jealousy is making sad havoc with your loyalty! 

May, preoccupied though she was, was too quick-witted 
not to notice that her sister had some trouble; but two or 
three attempts to fathom it had failed. 

Enid, whose moods had grown very variable, became 
downright pettish when May one night tried to question 
her too closely. 

“ Oh, pray let me alone!” she said, “ there’s nothing 
the matter, and for goodness’ sake, don’t say anything to 
mamma or Emmie.” 

“Iam not likely to do that,” retorted May, a good deal 
wounded; and she went out of the room with her head in 
the air. 

So Enid’s heart fed on itself, and jealousy is not whole- 
some fare. 

It chanced that one day — one unfortunate day, as it 
turned out — Enid, May, and a married friend — a Mrs. 
Nesbitt — went to a matinee in the Strand, which Enid did 
not enjoy, because her mind was entirely fixed on other 
things; and Enid was essentially of a brooding disposition; 


164 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


she had not the energy to shake off anything that troubled 
her, and sentiment outbalanced reason. 

It was half past five, and, of course, at this time of the 
year broad daylight when the party left the theater, and 
Enid leaned back in the corner of the carriage, while May 
and Mrs. Nesbitt talked about the play. 

Enid had a headache, she said, which was not exactly 
true; but it is one of the licensed 44 tarra-diddles ” of 
society, and as it is generally accepted as a polite rendering 
of 4 4 don’t bore me!” it can hardly be called a falsehood, 
since no one is deceived. 

Suddenly the carriage stopped; there was a block — a not 
uncommon occurrence in the Strand at the 44 witching 
hour ” when matinees pour forth their hundreds and a 
large part of the business world is en route for home. 

44 Oh, dear, what a bother!” exclaimed May; 44 and how 
did you like Miss Rock, Mrs. Nesbitt? I thought her 
charming,” etc. 

Enid bent forward a little, wondering if the dark 
brougham with the beautiful bay horse that had pulled up 
almost alongside of the Roden carriage belonged to any one 
she knew. Another moment, and the bay horse drew for- 
ward a little more, bringing the two broughams exactly 
opposite to each other, and Enid, who backed the horse, 
could see right into the dark brougham without moving 
from her position. She started violently, and the crimson 
rushed to her brow, for her gaze was on forms and faces 
only too well known — Beryl Carolan and Vere Lorraine. 

There was a half smile on the girl’s beautiful mouth, 
and her eyes were drooping, while Lorraine, bending 
down to her, seemed to be talking softly and earnestly. 
There was something in his aspect and manner, in his very 
attitude, in the light reflected on the face of her to whom he 
spoke, that made Enid’s heart turn sick with jealous pain; 
and then, suddenly, Lorraine moved a little, so that she 
caught a fuller view of his features, and she saw then the 
look 44 that takes the breath ” of the woman who meets 
it in a man’s eyes — that is, if she loves him. 

Just a second, a flash, and the handsome head was bent 
down again; and then the Roden coachman saw an open- 
ing, drew off in front, and the dark brougham was lost to 
sight. Enid was still from the very tumult within her; 
blind and dizzy with passion, she saw and heard nothing; 


SIOTER OR VICTIM? 


165 


the voices of her companions were only part of the din that 
filled her ears. Happily they did not notice her sitting in 
her corner; if they had done so, the 44 headache ” theory 
would silence Mrs. Nesbitt, and May must know the truth, 
anyhow, sooner or later. 

So this was it — Vere Lorraine loved Beryl Carolan — a 
miserable 44 infatuation/'’ for where could it end? and 
Beryl was most to blame; she was using her power 
wickedly. Enid was too thoroughly upset to join the circle 
at dinner. Still, under the plea of a headache she remained 
in her own room, accepting nothing but a little tea, and 
she wept and sobbed until she gained the headache she had 
before only feigned. 

May kept her own counsel until she retired for the night. 
Then she went straight to Enid’s apartment and tapped at 
the door. 

44 Come in,” said Enid’s voice, faintly; and May entered 
and closed the door. 

Enid was sitting back in an arm-chair by the fire, 
wrapped in a loose dressing-gown, and looking thoroughly 
ill. 

44 What, Enid!” said her sister, 44 not in bed yet?” 

Enid shook her head, but made no reply in words. May 
came forward and stood on the hearth-rug. 

44 Enid,” said she, gently, 44 you must tell me what it is 
that’s making you so unhappy; I can’t bear to see it. I 
know partly the cause, but not all; and perhaps if you gave 
me your confidence I might help you.” 

4 4 You know the cause?” repeated Enid. 44 What do 
you mean. May?” 

44 1 am not blind,” said the other, kneeling down by her 
sister and taking her hand. 44 It’s about Lorraine, isn’t 
it?” 

Enid flushed scarlet, and an angry light shone in her 
usually soft eyes. 

44 He is cruel and unjust,” she said, trembling. “He 
makes me believe that he cares for me, and all the time 
he is the slave of that girl who cares no more for him than 
for any other man.” 

44 What girl?” exclaimed May, in surprise. 

44 What girl? Why, Beryl Carolan, of course!” 

44 Oh, Enid, you can not think her heartless! And what 


1G6 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


makes you think Lorraine cares for her? You have heard 
some gossip — ” 

“ No/’ said Enid, almost violently, “ it is more than 
that. I have seen for myself.” 

“ Seen what?” 

“ To-day, when we were blocked in the Strand, there 
was a carriage close to ours. I could see into it, and 1 saw 
Beryl and Vere Lorraine. He was bending down to her, 
as a lover might do — ” 

She paused. 

May interposed. 

“But, Enid, you forget; Beryl would allow more of that 
sort of manner from men than women differently brought 
up. She has led altogether a free, less conventional life, 
and has always been used to be worshiped.” 

“ But how comes she driving about with Mr. Lorraine? 
If she does not want her name to be linked with his in the 
worst sense, would she behave like that?” 

“ Enid, dear,” expostulated May, “ be reasonable. I 
don’t suppose Beryl had been driving with Lorraine. 
Probably she saw him as he was on his way homeward, 
and had simply offered him a seat in the brougham.” 

“ Oh, possibly,” returned Enid, bitterly; “ but Beryl 
wouldn’t care; why should she? And that isn’t all. I saw 
his face ” — she turned aside her own, coloring deeply 
again, and her voice faltered — “ just for a moment, and I 
could see by his look that he loved her!” 

There was a minute’s dead silence. 

Enid/s last words were the greater shock to her sister 
that they were less a revelation than the confirming (as she 
felt now) of previous doubts. It was so likely, after all, 
that Lorraine should love Beryl Carolan; it was not easy 
for a man to come within the sphere of her influence and 
escape scatheless, and in her Lorraine could find perfect 
sympathy with his own nature. 

May had argued with herself: “ He knows marriage 
with Beryl is impossible. He has withdrawn himself while 
there is time, and is falling back on a calmer, less passion- 
ate, but safer love.” A thing impossible to Yere Lorraine; 
but how should May know this? 

She drew her illustrations from what she had read and 
some things she had heard. She was too young, and her 
life had been too flowery, for the teachings of experience. 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


107 


Then came the rumors that disquieted Enid; and May, 
somewhat troubled also, watched Lorraine more closely 
when he and Enid were together; and courteous, attentive, 
tender as his manner was, it was not, so said sage May, like 
a lover’s manner — not like (this hardly whispered in her 
heart) — not like Ulric Hazlemere’s manner to herself. 

Was Enid, then, deceiving herself? Had Lorraine ever 
dreamed of wooing her, or had he been unable to resist the 
attraction that had already drawn him to Beryl Carolan’s 
side? 

4 4 She is the kind of woman,” some one had said once in 
May’s hearing, 44 for whose sake the best and noblest of 
men will wreck their whole lives;” and May could under- 
stand this. 

Was Enid, then, wasting her heart on a man who had 
none to give her? 

After a time May said, hesitatingly: 

44 But, Enid, dear, are you sure — about Lorraine, I 
mean?” 

44 Sure that he thinks a great deal too much of Beryl 
Carolan?” said Enid, almost harshly. 44 How could 1 be 
mistaken?” 

A not very self-evident statement; but May did not know 
how to contradict it. She repeated, however: 

44 A great deal too much! But, Enid, after all, he — ” 

44 After all!” interposed Enid. 44 Ho you suppose that 
Beryl is too good?” 

44 Enid!” 

May’s look of horror and indignation startled the other; 
she flushed crimson; but she was too angry, too much 
under the dominion of jealousy, to retract her words. 

44 Ay,” she cried, 44 1 mean what I say! How can a 
woman lead the life she has led, and leads now, and remain 
blameless? And Lorraine is not an angel; no man is, if 
she tempts him — ” 

44 There’s no need for that,” interrupted May; 44 any 
man would fall in love with Beryl, and it’s not right or 
just, Enid, of you to say such things of her — even to think 
them. You were always her champion, and now you have 
turned against her because you think she has taken Lor- 
raine from you.” 

44 She has taken him from me!” cried Enid, bursting 
into passionate weeping; and it is so much the more cruel 


1G8 


SINNER Oil VICTIM?' 


in her if she does not care for him. Why did she go to 
him at all? She heard that he was attractive, rich, in a 
high position, and she meant to have him at her feet. I 
was foolish to believe in her as I did.” 

May, who had risen to her feet, stood silent during this 
outburst. She had no comfort to offer, because she felt, 
that Enid was unjust to Beryl; while, at the same time, 
she could sympathize with her sisters grief, and for that 
reason hesitated to hint to her that she had no grounds for 
assuming that Lorraine had any affection for her. Be- 
sides, it is not an easy thing to suggest, even to one's own 
sister, that she has given her love unsought. 

It was a perplexing experience for poor May, who saw 
what appeared to her a new and unsuspected phase of 
Enid's character; whereas, it was simply that Enid was 
influenced by passions to which she had hitherto been a 
stranger — passions which, of all others, most completely 
transform the character. 

Presently Enid recovered herself somewhat. 

“Beryl can not be so cruel,” she said, inconsistently, 
forgetting, apparently, her accusations against Miss Caro- 
lan. 44 She can’t know.” 

4 4 But, Enid—” 

May got no further. She wanted to say, 44 Are you so 
sure that Lorraine does care for you at all?” but she could 
not get out the words. 

Enid gave no heed to the two spoken. She rose up. 

44 Never mind, May,” she said, pressing her hands to her 
temples. 44 Leave me now, dear, and go to bed. You 
must be tired.” 

44 No,” said May, putting her arm round her sister; 44 1 
am not tired, and I won’t leave you unless you’ll promise 
to try and get some rest. You will make yourself quite 
ill, and you know that will never do.” 

Enid shuddered. 

44 No,” she said. 44 Well, May, I will try. I will, 
indeed, though I don’t think it will be much use.” 

So May bid her sister an affectionate 44 good-night,” and 
departed to her own apartment; and Enid kept her word, 
and tried her best to sleep; but it was broad daylight before 
she obtained any rest, and then it was the troubled, 
dream-haunted slumber which is scarcely better than lying 
awake. 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


Ids 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

HOT A DREAM, BUT A TRUTH. 

“ Vere Lorraine must not marry Enid Roden I” 

This was the burden of Bernard Harrington's thoughts 
as he took his way eastward from Kensington Gore, and 
even during the service in the church he could not entirely 
clear his mind of this trouble. 

“ There is but one course to take," he said, within him- 
self, “ painful though it may be — to him — most cruel; and 
yet it would be a crime in me to let this go on. Let the 
result be what it may, I must prevent it. Would that I 
had known before it was too late, perhaps, to save his 
peace — and hers." 

Bernard Harrington never hesitated over a duty; once he 
had said, “ This is right," he went straight forward, with- 
out looking to the right or the left. 

The following evening, therefore, about nine o'clock, 
when he judged it possible Lorraine might be at home — ■ 
moreover, he himself could not get away earlier — he took 
his way to Albemarle Street and inquired for Mr. Lorraine. 

“ Yes," Lorraine's servant replied; but he was afraid 
his master was engaged. 

“ Ho you mean," Mr. Harrington asked, “ that he has 
friends with him?" 

“No, sir; I think he has some briefs to read." 

“ I am very sorry; but will you kindly take up my card, 
and say my business is very pressing?" 

The man went up, and returned quickly. 

“ Mr. Lorraine will see you, sir. This way, please." 

He conducted Mr. Harrington up a broad flight of 
stairs, and opened the door of a large and handsomely fur- 
nished room. 

Lorraine rose from a table, on which lay some legal- 
looking papers, and advanced with outstretched hand. 

“ Mr. Harrington," he said, “ J am only too happy to 
sec you. It is a most unexpected pleasure." 

“ You are very kind; but 1 am afraid I interrupt you." 

“Oh! I can read in the small hours; I often do that." 

“ It is burning the candle at both ends, Mr. Lorraine." 

“ Quifaire ? Sit here, near the fire, please— it is cold 


170 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


to-night. You see, one doesn’t live in London until the 
evening.” 

The other’s smile was grave and a little sad. Perhaps 
his ideas of 44 living ” and Vere Lorraine’s hardly coin- 
cided. Lorraine resumed his seat; but his keen dark 
eyes, watching covertly his visitor’s face, saw there some- 
thing which made the younger man ask himself: 

4 4 What is this urgent business? is it something concern- 
ing me?” 

The priest broke the short silence that followed Lor- 
raine’s last speech. 

44 Mr. Lorraine,” he said, 44 1 must not detain you longer 
than 1 can help; but you will forgive some hesitation on 
my part, since my errand is a very painful one.” 

44 My time is at your service, Mr. Harrington,” said 
Lorraine, gently, but with an odd feeling of apprehension 
gripping at his heart. His thoughts flew to Beryl. 

44 Thank you. I should not have come to you, believe 
me, were it not that there is no other course open to me. ” 

44 What you have to say, then,” said Lorraine, bending 
forward a little, 44 concerns me?” 

44 It concerns you very nearly.” The speaker’s lips 
quivered. He went on steadily, but his voice shook more 
than once. 44 1 have no right to question you, Mr. Lor- 
raine, but knowing you to be a man of high honor, I am 
sure you can not clearly understand your own position, 
unless, indeed, what I have heard is erroneous.” 

44 What have you heard?” asked Lorraine, quietly; but 
the grip was tightening round his heart. 

44 That you are, if not an actual, yet a probable suitor for 
Enid Roden.” 

44 Enid Roden?” repeated Lorraine, with a quick 
indrawn breath. 

The priest looked at him; but before he could speak, 
Lorraine had added, quickly: 

44 And suppose this were so — what then?” 

44 Because, Mr. Lorraine, you are already married, and 
your wife is living.” 

b Had Y ere Lorraine expected those awful words? Had 
his own thought, his own ineffable dread, anticipated 
them? He did not start or exclaim — he did not move at 
all; but the livid paleness that spread to his very lips — the 
agony that leaped into his dark eyes— told that the shock 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


171 


had struck to his very heart; and yet there was nothing of 
guilt in this stunned silence; it was a man convinced of a 
terrible fact, which he had feared but doubted; not a man 
convinced of guilty concealment of that fact, who sat 
before Bernard Harrington. 

Suddenly his whole face and mien changed — he sprung 
to his feet. 

44 You know this?” he said through his teeth, his voice 
hoarse and changed. 4 4 How do you know it? Who is my 
wife? Where is she?” 

The priest rose also. 

4 4 You have a right,” he said, 44 to ask those questions, 
but I can only partly answer them — ” 

44 Stay!” interrupted Lorraine. 44 1 told you when we 
first met that we had met before; and we have met. Are 
you the priest who performed that wretched marriage?” 

44 1 am. It was a good and lawful marriage in all save 
this — that you were perhaps scarcely conscious of your 
acts.” 

44 And by Heaven!” exclaimed Lorraine, passionately, 
44 it shall be set aside! But the girl — Nina — where is she? 
In Heaven’s name, who and what is she?” 

44 That,” said Mr. Harrington, firmly, 44 1 may not tell 
you.” 

44 You tell me,” said Lorraine, with sudden and strange 
calmness, 44 that I am married, that my wife is living, and 
you can tell me no more. Are you under a promise?” 

44 A most solemn promise marie to her.” 

44 She has no wish, then, to claim me?” 

44 None.” 

44 Of your own knowledge — she is living?” 

44 Of my own knowledge. I have seen her.” 

Lorraine turned away and sat down, covering his eyes 
with his hand, and for full five minutes there was utter 
silence between the two men. 

Presently the younger looked up. 

44 1 swear to you,” he said, 44 before Heaven that I had 
no clear memory of this marriage. Sometimes I have 
believed it could only have been a dream; sometimes that 
some such ceremony actually took place. I know_ now, 
from your lips, that my worst fears are resolved into a 
hideous fact. I am tied by a band that can bind neither 
heart nor conscience to a woman I have never even con- 


172 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 

sciously seen, whom no power on earth shall ever make 
me acknowledge as my wife, who does not claim me, yet 
denies me the power of legally breaking this miserable 
bond!” 

“ A moment,” said Mr. Harrington. “ What she did, she 
did for your sake, and in error, being very young, and, in 
consequence, ignorant of many things. She knew that the 
marriage was a monstrous wrong to you, yet it was that 
or your life — ” 

“ My life?” cried Lorraine, springing to his feet again. 
“ The man threatened my life— it was he who spoke those 
words that came back to me one night — 4 1 will put a 
bullet through your heart V — answer me!” 

“ He did. You must have heard them without at the 
time comprehending them. ” 

Lorraine sunk down once more, covering his face in 
agony. 

The priest went on, earnestly: 

“ But let poor Hina’s training be what it was, her heart 
at least was noble; she married you to save your life; but 
she would not claim you to ruin it. I promised her that I 
would never reveal to you the truth; but I supposed that 
you would remember the marriage. I did not know at the 
time to what extent you comprehended what was going on. 
You repeated the words afterward to me; you placed the 
ring on her finger — ” 

“ Yes — yes. Oh! great Heaven! — and I thought it a 
dream — my mother’s ring! Yes; goon!” 

“ From time to time,” continued the priest, “ I con- 
trived to gather news of you, and as the years went on, and 
you still remained unmarried, I felt the more certain that 
you remembered you were not free, but had, of course, no 
desire to claim this girl, and either did not care to seek 
her out, or failed in all attempts to do so. But when I 
heard, first rumors, and then more definite statements 
about your attentions to Miss Roden, I began to fear — not 
that you were acting dishonorably, but that you had no 
clear memory of your marriage, and conceived yourself 
free to marry again if you chose. Then there was but one 
course open to me — to tell you at least so much— that the 
marriage performed in that hut at Barra Creek was bind- 
ing on you until }^ou could legally nullify it— if indeed this 
could be done.” 


173 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

Well Lorraine knew the difficulty of nullifyig a mar- 
riage once performed, though even under circumstances 
that deprive it of all moral value. He raised his hueless 
face. 

44 You yourself/’ he said, slowly, 44 could not swear 
that, at the time you performed, the marriage, I was not 
conscious of mv own acts.” 

44 1 could not.” 

Again silence. 

Lorraine broke it. 

44 Mr. Harrington,” he said, 44 1 have no right to blame 
you. You made a solemn promise, and you are bound to 
keep it until released from it; but I scarcely know yet 
whether I shall choose to hold myself bound by such a 
mockery of marriage as this; the girl herself was but a 
child — herself an unwilling agent. But, Enid Roden! you 
touch my honor nearly!” 

44 Your honor!” The priest started. 44 How? Is it 
not true that — ” 

44 True that I esteem and admire her, but that I ever 
dreamed of offering her more than friendship allows — no! 
If I have seemed to do so — if I have in any way misled her 
or hers — Heaven forgive me! I have sin enough to answer 
for, but never the sin of trifling with any woman’s heart.” 

44 Mr. Lorraine,” said the priest, deeply pained, 44 1 have 
been grievously mistaken. I own that you seemed to me 
to take a great deal of pleasure in Miss Roden’s society, 
and it seemed not unlikely that you were growing to love 
her. I might have spared you what, believing as I did, I 
felt myself forced to tell you; and yet, if I had delayed—” 

u To-day, a month hence, a year hence,” said Lorraine, 
44 1 could never learn to love Enid Roden. But if I have 
injured her peace — no! I can not ask you that!” He rose, 
and began walking up and down the room. By and by he 
pauseclagain, coming up to the fire-place, where Mr. Har- 
rington stood watching him. 44 It is better, after all,” 
Lorraine said, 44 to know the full truth, however harsh and 
cruel it may be; but this tie can not bind my honor!” 

44 You can not mean that,” said the priest, gently; 
44 you know that it would nullify any marriage you might 
make.” 

44 1 know it,” said the other, setting his teeth; and I 
would keep back nothing. Well, well,” breaking into a 


174 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


sudden reckless laugh that startled Bernard Harrington 
far more than anything he had yet seen in this man, 
44 what does it matter to me whether this bushranger’s 
daughter, my wife , be living or dead? whether the mar- 
riage bind me or not? I have no wish to form another tie; 
there is no future for me, such as most men look to.” 

A miserable fear shot into the priest’s heart; it flashed 
into his eyes before the words reached his lips, and Lor- 
raine, catching the look, answered as if the question were 
spoken. 

44 No,” he said, very low and quietly, with a total change 
of manner; 44 not that; there is no entanglement.” 

44 Forgive me; the thought — ” 

44 Ah! you are a man of the world; what else should you 
think? But,” he added, with one of those penetrating 
looks of which few cared to face, 44 was it only the natural 
idea of any man who heard such words as I spoke just 
now, or any nonsense, any gossip, you have heard, as in 
this other case — but this time, scandal?” 

44 Indeed no; the scandal of the West End rarely 
reaches me in the far East. Whose name — ” 

He paused abruptly, and sitting down, covered his eyes 
for a moment. 

Lorraine stood still, without speech or movement, wait- 
ing for Mr. Harrington to break the silence. He looked 
up presently. 

44 1 might have thought of that,” he said, slowly. 
44 How blind we are, after all! I might haye thought — 
but again pardon. I have no claim on your confidence.” 

44 Speak freely,” said Lorraine; 44 you are the only man 
I know to whom I would give confidence. Ask me; I will 
answer you.” 

44 Then, it is this— that you love Beryl Carolan?” 

44 That I love her?” repeated Lorraine, his dark eyes 
glowing, his rich voice quivering with that wonderful 
depth and strength of passion that is so rare, and well, 
maybe, to be rare, for is it not more often a curse than a 
blessing? 44 That I love her?” He stopped, and turned 
aside. 44 Ay!” he added, more to himself than to his 
companion, 44 she is my very life!” 

It was full three minutes before Mr. Harrington spoke 
again. When he did, his voice was not quite steady. 

44 Heaven help you!” he said; 44 for you could not ask 


/■ 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 175 

her to share your name, and you surely would not offer — 
she would not accept less.” 

“You deem it madness,” said Lorraine, passionately, 
“ that I should ask Beryl Carolan to be my wife? Be it 
so. I was mad when I asked her, and I am mad still, for 
it is her will, not mine, that stands between us; and one 
day, as there is a Heaven above us, my will shall con- 
quer!” 

Few could have doubted this who looked in the man’s 
face. The priest said, slowly: 

“ Then she refused you— you have parted from her?” 

“Parted? No; nor never will!” He began to pace the 
room. “ Call it sin — peril — what you will, but spare all 
pains to make me put Beryl Carolan out of my life — I can 
not do it! _ She strove with prayers and tears, and I 
would not yield. I forced from her the promise that we 
should sometimes meet; and now that I know what I only 
feared, it can not change my will — it shall not change 
hers. She is not the less mine for the mockery of mar- 
riage that gives me a wife whose very name is unknown to 
me — whose face, if I saw it now, I should not know.” 

Was this only the sophistry of passion? Was it not also 
eternal justice? Yet there may be danger in the right as 
well as in the wrong. Mr. Harrington sighed heavily, the 
more that his own nature was so much in harmony with 
that of the man who spoke these impassioned words; yet 
the priest said, gently: 

“ There is surely peril to a man like you, to a woman 
like Beryl Carolan, especially, in a relationship which can 
not end in marriage, which should not end otherwise.” 

Lorraine flung himself into a chair, covering his face, 
his whole frame shaken like a reed by the tempest within 
him. 

“ Can men be more than human?” he said, hoarsely. 

“ Can they tear out their hearts by the roots and yet live? 
Ay, I know the old gamut. So thousands have spoken 
before me, and thousands will speak after me, and dream 
of no wrong, yet they have fallen and will fall. Let it be 
so.” He dropped his hands and rose, his face was livid,, 
and set like a flint. “ I sin with open eyes, if sin it be; 
Heaven judge, not I, for as Heaven hears me, I will not 
part from Beryl Carolan!” 

Against such resolve, argument, prayer, reproof would 


176 SINKER OR VICTIM? 

beat in vain; and Bernard Harrington perhaps felt the 
unwisdom of attempting an} 7 form of remonstrance. His 
lips moved, but it was not in audible words. He only 
clasped Lorraine’s hand in his in a long, silent, farewell 
clasp, and turned to the door, and once more Vere Lor- 
raine was alone. 

Had the priest, in those few unspoken words, prayed for 
the man who was rushing on temptation, or were these his 
words: 44 Heaven, in Thy mercy, guide him to the truth!” 

A strange prayer. What could it mean? 


CHAPTER XXX. 

MRS. RODEN QUESTIONS MAY. 

44 May,” said Mrs. Roden, entering the drawing-room, 
where May was practicing a new piece, 44 have you seen 
Enid since breakfast-time?” 

May looked up in surprise. 

44 No, mamma; she went to her room, I think.” 

44 She is not there now.” 

44 Oh, she may have gone into the gardens. I’ll run and 
find out.” 

May left the room, and in a few minutes returned. 

44 She’s only out for a stroll, mamma,” she said. 
44 Blanchard ” (one of the women-servants) 44 saw her go 
out about twenty minutes ago, and cross the road, as if to 
go to the gardens.” 

44 Very well,” said Mrs. Roden; 44 but I must tell Enid 
that I don’t like her walking about the gardens by herself. 
What’s the matter with her, May? She is not herself at 
all lately. Sometimes she is in good spirits, and at others 
depressed and distraite . Is she fretting about Lorraine, 
do you thinly?” 

Mrs. Roden seated herself, evidently prepared for an 
explanation, which May had no mind to give explicitly. 
That would be a betrayal of Enid’s confidence; but some 
reply, of course, she must make, so, after a pause she said, 
hesitatingly : 

44 1 fancy Enid does worry herself. I don’t know, but 
it seems to me — ” 

44 You don’t know what f What seems to you?” said 
Mrs. Roden, impatiently; 44 my dear girl, you are enig- 
matical.” 


SINKER OR VICtlM? 


177 

4 4 Well, mamma, I hardly know how to say what I 
mean : I mean — I am not at all sure that Mr. Lorraine 
does care for Enid.” 

44 What makes you say this. May?” 

Mrs. Roden’s tone and manner were not encouraging, 

44 Oh, several things, mamma,” replied May; t4 of 
course I may be wrong; only if Enid is wasting her affec- 
tion on a man who does not give her any in return—” 

Again she stopped. 

Mrs. Roden asked: 

44 Have you heard or seen anything that gives you this 
impression, May? If you have, I think you ought to tell 
me.” 

44 1 have heard something, mamma,” said May, flush- 
ing; 44 but I can’t tell you, because it was told to me in 
confidence.” 

44 Something about Lorraine?” 

44 Y — yes.” 

44 Do you mean any scandal?” said Mrs. Roden, half 
afraid of the answer. 

44 Not exactly that, mamma, but that he was fond of 
some one else.” 

44 Beryl Carolan?” 

44 Yes— Beryl Carolan.” 

Mrs. Roden rose. 

44 1 can scarcely believe that,” she said, 44 of Yere Lor- 
raine; he could not for a moment think of making Miss 
Carolan his wife, and the world must necessarily put its 
own interpretation on any 4 friendship ’ between a man 
like Lorraine and a woman like Beryl. If he is trifling 
with Enid — ” 

44 Oh, mamma!” 

44 My dear May, you know little of the kind of thing 
men of the world think nothing of. Still, I repeat, I am 
not willing to believe Vere? Lorraine capable to paying 
attention to one woman while he was in love with another, 
and that other woman he can not marry.” 

44 But, mamma,” cried May, 44 te he paid attention to 
Enid?” 

44 Something very like it,” said Mrs. Roden, sharply but 
vaguely; 44 and if he meant nothing he should have acted 
differently. But no doubt Beryl Carolan has exerted her 
influence to win him, and has succeeded only too well.” 


178 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


And with those words, to which May vouchsafed no 
reply, having no mind to raise a storm, Mrs. Roden quitted 
the room. 

Had Enid gone for a stroll in Kensington Gardens? 

After leaving the house she crossed the road, and walked 
quickly eastward, glancing about her nervously, as women 
are apt to do who are not used to going about the streets 
by themselves; but presently she paused and looked right 
and left. Her heart beat fast; her cheek now flushed, now 
paled. 

Should she draw back even now from the step she was 
about to take? Was it not mad, unmaidenly? But while 
she hesitated a hansom cab-driver, alert for a fare, saw 
her standing irresolute, and drew up. 

44 Hansom?” he asked, interrogatively. 

Enid looked up. The chance decided her. She put her 
foot on the step and got into the cab. 

44 Hanover Square,” she said to the driver. 44 I will tell 
you when to stop.” 

And cabby drove off. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A STRANGE INTERVIEW. 

44 Enid Roden!” repeated Beryl to herself, with an 
amazement which she did not show when a servant handed 
her Enid’s card. Then, aloud: 44 Have you shown Miss 
Roden into the drawing-room?” 

44 Yes, miss.” 

The man withdrew, and Beryl rose, laying aside the 
book she had been reading. 

44 Enid Roden — here!” she said again to herself. 
44 What can she want with me? It can not be about the 
jewels! — is it about Lorraine? Impossible!” 

She went, however, to the drawing-room, but paused a 
moment before entering. 

It was painful, after all that had happened, to meet 
Enid, who had once been her friend, whom Beryl, so 
tenacious of affection— alas! for her— still loved. But the 
girl was quickly mistress of herself, and opened the door. 

Enid rose from a chair at the further end of the room, 
advanced a few steps hesitatingly, and paused, flushing 


SINNER OR VICTIM ? 


170 


crimson. Beryl, who had not even changed color, bowed 
her head slightly, and advanced with graceful, nonchalant 
ease. 

“ Good-morning, Miss Roden / 3 she said; “ I am at your 
service. I presume you called on business. Will you sit 
down?” 

This address did not relieve Enid's embarrassment. She 
had come here on a mad, impetuous impulse; but now 
that she was actually face to face with her rival — so, in her 
heart, she called Beryl Oarolan — she knew not what to say 
or how to act. 

# Beryl's calm ease of manner, her quiet ignoring of her 
visitor's manifest agitation, of there being anything to ex- 
cite surprise in the visit itself, threw the whole burden of 
opening the subject of that visit upon Enid herself, and 
Enid did not feel now as if she could say a word; but, on 
the other hand, having come, how could she get away 
without accounting for her presence? 

She sat down, and as Beryl looked at her steadily, a 
softer shade stole over her beautiful face. She was read- 
ing Enid like an open, book, and she pitied her. She 
would come to the rescue, and give her some-time friend 
an opening. 

“I wondered,” she said, gently, “when I saw your 
card what could have brought you here. If it is anything 
that I can do for you — '' 

Enid turned to the speaker, stretching out her hand. 

“ You can do something for me if you will!'' she cried, 
impulsively. “Will you do it?” 

But Beryl ignored the extended hand, and replied, almost 
coldly: 

“ I never pledge myself to an unknown obligation. I 
can not understand in what way I can serve you now. 
You and I are as far apart to-day as if oceans rolled be- 
tween us. My world is no longer yours; it would be a 
pity that any one you know should even see you entering 
this house.” 

Had not the same thought crossed Enid? She colored 
deeply, but answered at once: 

“As to that, let people think what they choose. You 
know that long ago, if I could. Beryl — ” 

“ Stop!” interrupted Beryl. “ There is no use in going 
back to the past. I know that for a time your generosity 


180 SINKER OR VICTIM? 

forbid you to condemn me as the rest of the world con- 
demned me. You would have kept up the friendship 
between us; but that, of course, was. impossible. In jus- 
tice to you — not because my feeling toward you was 
changed — I was compelled to ignore your wishes; but I 
was, and am, deeply grateful to you. Now, however, the 
wish no longer exists. I don’t blame you, but be just to 
me.” 

44 I am just to you!” cried Enid; 44 if I can’t feel quite 
as I used to do, it is not for anything the world says or 
thinks of you — it is because — because — ” 

44 Because — what?” 

Enid burst into tears — half grief, half- jealous anger. 

44 Oh! Beryl — can’t you see — don’t you know — you must 
know!” 

Beryl rose to her feet. 

44 Yes,” she said, very quietly; 44 I do see — I do know — 
I will not any more feign ignorance of your errand this 
morning. You think that I am your rival — that I am rob- 
bing you of Vere Lorraine’s love!” 

Enid started violently, and covered her burning face with 
her hands. 

44 How could I think anything else,” she said, 44 after 
what I saw?” 

4 4 What did } r ou see?” 

44 You were together — in a carriage — in the Strand — ” 
began Enid, and paused. 

44 Well,” said Beryl, with a short, bitter laugh, “did 
you imagine it was Ms carriage?” 

44 No— no, Beryl; but I saw his face — he was talking to 
you, and I felt sure then — that — he loved you!” 

What a thrill went through the heart of the woman who 
heard those words! But she drew a step nearer to the 
other, and paused. 

44 And you!” she said, under her breath; “you love 
him?” 

. “ Yes,” in a low, shamed tone; 44 1 love him!” 

44 And you have come to me to-day,” said Beryl, slowly, 
44 to ask me to give him up to you— to remind me — is it 
not the old story? — that I have so many worshipers, while 
you care only for the love of this one man— that I only 
seek conquest — that all are alike to me — only they must 
all kneel at my feet, and own themselves vanquished — can 


SIKNER OR VICTIM? 


181 


not 1 forego this one conquest — can not I yield up this one 
man to you?” 

“ Beryl,” said Enid, in a kind of fear, “ how strangely 
you talk.” 

‘‘Do I? But have I not hit the truth? That is the 
point; never mind how I reached it.” 

“ It is partly the truth,” said Enid. 

“ That is something gained. Then— I am to give up 
Vere Lorraine to you. Why?” 

Enid's head drooped lower. 

“ I told you, Beryl.” 

‘‘You told me,” said Beryl, sinking back again into a 
low chair from which she had risen, leaning back, and 
clasping her hands behind her head — “ you told me that 
you loved him — not that he loved you!” 

The tone, the manner, the words — something of con- 
scious power in the nonchalant attitude — the glorious 
beauty of the girl who seemed to hold sway with so easy a 
grasp, stung Enid to fury. She sprung to her feet. 

“ It is you who came between us!? she said, trembling 
with agitation. “ You were bent on conquering him from 
the beginning. Why did you go to him? You knew your 
power, and you meant to use it— you meant to win him, 
and for what? He could not make you his wife — ” 

Enid stopped, half choking; but it did not seem as if the 
other would have interrupted her if she had gone on for 
an hour. 

Beryl did not move, or display any emotion at words 
that might have stabbed her like a knife, coming, too, 
from lips that had once professed devoted love to her. She 
sat in the same careless, graceful pose, staring at Enid 
with a kind of sleepy curiosity in her violet eyes, as one 
would watch the tantrums of a child, at once ludicrous 
and impotent. But when Enid stopped, she said, slowly: 

“Well? I am listening. Go on.” 

“ You are cruel!” burst out Enid, half beside herself; 
indeed, she had scarcely known what she said. “ You are 
miserably cruel!” 

“Am 1? I have a sort of idea that I might retort 
Perhaps you did not mean all you implied. Miss Boden; 
perhaps you did. You have told me that I am either a 
heartless flirt, who loves conquest for conquest's sake — or 
what some people think I am. Yere Lorraine can not 


182 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


marry me — but — he is — my lover! I might resent such an 
imputation, but I suppose I have lost the right to do that. 
I am more concerned to wonder how, on either of these 
two suppositions, you should imagine there was any good 
in appealing to me to give you back what I have robbed 
from you. If I am a mere coquette, j'ou might as well 
appeal to the generosity of a wax figure as to mine; if Yere 
Lorraine is my lover, my self-interest would certainly out- 
weigh my heart; of course I leave out all question of my 
own feelings being concerned — they are, admittedly, 
non est .” 

Enid Roden had no weapon in her memory to meet this 
kind of thing. She did not understand it; she could not 
reply to it; it crushed her more effectually than any out- 
burst of passion of indignation could have done. 

Sarcasm is a potent force against those who have no 
capacity to retort in kind. 

Enid flung herself down in the chair, repeating again, 
with a broken sob : 

“You are cruel! cruel! unjust!” 

“ Unjust!” Beryl laughed. “ That is a new charge, 
Miss Roden. How am I unjust — tell me?” 

Enid was more on her own ground now. She looked up. 

“Was it just to take from me what was everything to 
me and nothing to you?” 

“Was it ever yours? Stay!”— Beryl abandoned her 
careless manner and tone and bent forward, her hands 
lightly interlaced round her knee — “ let us drop all beat- 
ing about the bush and understand each other clearly. 
You have come here to me to-day to accuse me of stealing 
from you a love that was yours, to ask me to give you back 
that love. Now, answer me — what right have you to be- 
lieve that Yere Lorraine held you dearer than a friend?” 

Enid colored scarlet and turned aside. 

“ Many things,” she said, after .a pause, falteringly — 
“ many things. One can feel better than name the ways 
by which one understands that — that — ” 

She paused, and Beryl did not come to her relief. She 
maintained a pained silence. How could she say to this 
girl that her own heart had deceived her, that she was 
imagining attentions which had never been given— never 
intended? 

Perhaps Enid scarcely deserved such consideration from 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


183 


Beryl Carolan, but Beryl's generous nature pitied rather 
than condemned her some-time friend; and her cynical 
wisdom made her more merciful in regard to the insults 
leveled at herself than might otherwise have been the case. 

She broke the silence at length, speaking very gently: 

44 Let that rest for awhile, Miss Roden. I will not dis- 
pute that you believed Vere Lorraine looked upon you as 
something more than a friend. But you accused me of 
deliberately setting myself to win him from you. You 
surely do not maintain that when I went to him to ask 
him to undertake my defense, he was in any way other 
than a friend to you?" 

44 No; not then." 

44 Then, even supposing I had so unwomanly an inten- 
tion, I was at least free, so far as you were concerned. 
From that time you and I were parted, and I could not 
even know all that went on in your world. If I did, 
where was your prior claim? — save, perhaps, in this — that 
Lorraine could not marry me, and so (for his happiness) 1 
was under an obligation to consider yours. I ought to give 
him up to a woman he could make his wife." 

44 Would not that be reason enough, Beryl?" 

A strange smile flitted over the other’s lips. 

44 What sublime heroism one is capable of by proxy!" 
she said. 44 Were the cases reversed, would you give up 
Vere Lorraine to me?" 

Enid’s cheek burned, her bosom heaved. 

44 Do you love him?" she said, suddenly, looking 
straight into the other’s eyes. 

The violet eyes met the brown ones without flinching — 
bore them down — and never a change of color in the pale 
cheek, never a quiver of the firm lips. 

44 What is that to you?" then said Beryl, coolly. 44 Vere 
Lorraine came here of his own free will. I did not ask 
him; I did not go to him with any thought of winning his 
love; and if he loves me, what then? If you think he has 
wronged you, challenge him — not me." 

44 You do not deny that he loves you?" cried Enid, 
rising once more. 

44 Deny it — " Beryl began, and paused. 

Her whole manner changed. She rose, and laying a 
gentle but firm hand on Enid’s shoulder, put her back in 


184 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


the chair again; then, still standing by the girl's side, but 
not facing her, her hand still on Enid's shoulder, she said: 

4 4 Enid, for the sake of your own peace, give up all 
thought of Vere Lorraine. He does not love you; he 
never loved you. If he has given you cause to think he 
might ever come to you as a lover, it was unwittingly 
done; he is incapable of trifling with a woman's heart. 
Though I love him with my whole soul " — her voice 
trembled as she spoke — 44 I would have given him up to 
you, Enid, for his dear sake, for I can never be his wife; 
and, oh! Enid, you will surely believe that he would not 
ask, nor I accept, less; but he gave his heart to me; and 
is he a man to love lightly? Will he turn to you because 
his love for me is hopeless?" 

Enid had bowed her head down, and was weeping con- 
vulsively in grief, and shame, and passionate resentment; 
and Beryl, feeling the last, removed the touch from which 
Enid shrunk, and turned away. The truth was too cruel 
for any comfort to be of avail, save what time should 
bring; and Enid was scarcely in a mood to accept comfort 
from her rival. So Beryl Left her to regain at least some 
outward self-control, and presently Enid had mastered 
herself somewhat, and rose. 

44 I have been miserably mistaken," she said, 44 miser- 
ably deceived; but it is just as well that my eyes are 
opened." 

“ Mistaken," said Beryl, gently, 4 4 not deceived. You 
wrong Vere Lorraine by the suggestion that he played with 
your feelings, or was even careless of them." 

44 1 might be wrong in thinking the first — not the last," 
said Enid, coldly; 44 and I admit that I was unjust to you. 
Forgive me for that — forgive me for coming to you. I 
was mad; I scarcely knew what I did." 

44 You need not ask my forgiveness, Enid. I would that 
I could have spared you this suffering; and so much I am 
sure you know, that what has passed will rest between you 
and me." 

44 Beryl, I know it." 

She moved toward the door. 

44 Good-bye," she said, pausing. 

44 Good-bye," Beryl said in a low tone, and opened the 
door. 44 1 will go with you myself," she said. 

She followed Enid down to the hall door and opened it, 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 185 

and then once more Enid paused and looked at the woman 
she had once so loved — the woman Vere Lorraine loved — 
whose glorious beauty was at once his excuse and a wound 
to her rival. 

“ She is so lovely, and he loves her!” 

It was the death-blow of all hope to look on a creature 
so formed to win, who said, without words: 

44 Who can contend against me?” 

Enid’s momentary impulse to offer her hand was 
checked. Her face hardened; she turned away, and say- 
ing once more 44 Good-bye,” passed out. 

Beryl went back slowly to the room she had left, and sat 
long with her face hidden in her hands; and then the door 
opened softly, unheeded by her, and some one said, 
44 Beryl,” and she started up with a smothered cry, and 
threw herself into her lover’s arms. But when he ques- 
tioned her about what her trouble was, she would not tell 
him. It was nothing, she said, that she could tell any 
one, for it was another person’s secret, and Lorraine ques- 
tioned no more. He had happened to be close by on business, 
he said, and snatched a few minutes to come in and see 
Beryl; and she clung to him as if in 44 boding fear.” 

4 4 You love me, Vere?” she said; 44 you will always love 
me?” 

And he answered, pressing her closer to him : 

44 Always, dearest;” and, under breath: 44 Heaven help 
me always!” 


CHAPTEB XXXII. 

THE PINK AMETHYSTS. 

44 Vere,” said Emilie Gresham, meeting her cousin one 
evening at the theater, 44 1 am making up a party for 
Easter for Silver Ash; if you can possibly come, you must.” 

44 1 shall be only too delighted, my dear, and I dare say 
I shall be able to come. You may be quite sure I shall do 
my best.” 

Emilie went on her way to a box with a party of friends, 
Lorraine to the stalls with the lady he was escorting, the 
handsome wife of a brother Q. 0. In the row before them 
sat Herbert Gresham and Rowcliffe. By and by two 
people entered a stage-box and took their places, a young 
Frenchman, who looked like an actor, and a girl in pale 


186 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


pink satin and cream plush — Beryl Cardan, as every one 
knew, and of course every one stared. 

Presently, when the first act of the piece was over, 
Gresham quitted the stalls, and made his way round to 
Beryl’s box. 

She shook hands with him, smiling, and let him sit 
down by her in the corner; but when a few commonplaces 
had passed, she turned to him and said, very low: 

44 Did you know that your wife was in front? She is in 
an opposite box.” 

44 My wife!” He started, and glanced across; his cheek 
flushed. “ No,” he said, 44 indeed I did not know it.” 

44 So,” Beryl said, smiling a little, 44 you must not stay 
here long.” 

44 Don’t banish me yet, Beryl,” said Gresham, earnestly. 

44 Hush! I must — soon!” She looked across at Emilie, 
and added: 44 What lovely pink amethysts she is wearing!” 

The flush on Gresham’s cheek deepened, his eyes flashed, 
but he said, with a carelessness that did not deceive Beryl: 

44 Yes, they are very l^ndsome.” 

She turned and looked at him; there were tears in her 
eyes; his sunk. 

44 1 know,” she said, softly, and her hand just touched 
his, no more. 

44 It was your doing, Beryl,” whispered the man, 
hoarsely. 

She was silent; her heart was too full for words. Surely 
he had not merely followed a fleeting impulse; surely there 
was hope, good hope, that Emilie’s day of renewed happi- 
ness was dawning at last. 

Beryl dismissed Gresham shortly afterward, and he 
obeyed her behest meekly. 

The play was over and the spectators poured out into the 
street. Herbert Gresham went out among the first and 
waited in the porch, standing back in the shadow, waiting 
for whom? Not for Beryl, for he saw her pass, leaning on 
Anatole Marceau’s arm, and made no effort to speak to 
her. He saw Vere Lorraine go out with his companion, 
and almost immediately came a group, among which 
Emilie walked, leaning on the arm of a man not even 
known by sight to Emilie’s husband. 

A pang of jealousy shot through the man’s heart, a feel- 
ing -that he should have been where this man was, and then 


187 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

came a thrill of pleasure as a movement of Emilie’s 
pushed aside her mantle, and Gresham’s eyes caught a 
flash of pink amethysts. Did she wear them for his sake? 
Did she love him still? She was not happy; there was a 
sadness even in the smile with which she replied to some 
remark of her cavalier’s. 

Gresham had almost obeyed the impulse that seized him 
to rush forward, push this intruder away, draw his wife’s 
hand on his own arm, and lead her to her carriage; but 
being an Englishman, and not a Frenchman, he checked 
the impulse, and only watched his wife until she had dis- 
appeared within her carriage, and then he turned and 
walked moodily away. He felt as if he were an outcast, 
shut out from happiness that might be his, that had once 
been his, and he had madly sacrificed it. He had not cared 
once; a month ago he would not have called it happiness; 
but now he was saying words he would not have believed 
his lips could ever utter. 

4 4 1 was mad — I have wrecked my life; she can never for- 
give me, not even though she loves me. It is too late 
now.” 

And then he was sure he loved Beryl Carolan, or he said 
he was sure, which is not quite the same thing as being so, 
though it often passes muster for a time, as gilt passes for 
gold, till the test is applied. 

And Emilie, though* she had not seen her husband in the 
porch of the theater, had seen him in front, and watched 
him keenly, remembering what Lorraine had told her. 
Yes, there was a change; slight it might be outwardly, but 
it was there. She saw him go to Beryl’s box, and that 
Beryl dismissed him, and she whispered in her heart: 

‘ 4 There is hope; yes, there is hope; and Beryl Carolan 
is true and loyal. Heaven reward her!” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

WHY DID HE WANT TO KNOW ? 

Though Enid bore up bravely under the crushing blow 
she had received, yet she could not hide from those about 
her that a great change had come over her life, and 
coupling this with Lorraine’s continued absence from the 
house — a i S o he had twice excused himself from invitations— 
Mrs. Roden could not fail to divine something of the truth*. 


188 SIGNER OR VICTIM? 

and arrived — naturally — at the most uncharitable conclu- 
sion. 

It was the fact, then, and Enid had somehow discovered 
it, that there was 44 some kind of entanglement ” between 
Lorraine and Beryl Carolan. 

To May Enid had said merely that she knew Lorraine 
did not l&ve her, and wished never to have the matter 
alluded to. 

44 Don't let mamma question me,” she said; 44 I can’t 
bear it. Tell her what you please, but she must let me 
alone .’ 9 

And Mrs. Roden opened fire upon May. 

4 4 Surely,” she said, “you have Enid’s confidence. 
Some reason there must be why Lorraine does not come 
here any more. What is it?” 

44 A very simple one, mamma,” replied May, 44 though 
you would not listen to me when I hinted at it before. 
Something Enid has told me, but not all, and she begs 
that you will not question her.” 

44 1 can not see her failing and not know the cause. 
May. What is it?” 

44 That Lorraine does not care for her — never did — and 
she knows it— now.” 

44 She told you this?” 

' 44 Yes.” 

44 Then he has trifled with her. May — ” 

44 No,” May interrupted, 44 he has not. Dear Enid, you 
know, was always inclined to be sentimental, and exag- 
gerates every one else’s feelings as she does her own. Mr. 
Lorraine is sympathetic, and Enid mistook sympathy for 
love. Perhaps Emmie hinted to him that he was unknow- 
ingly disturbing Enid’s peace, and that is why he keeps 
away.” 

44 Or it is on account of Beryl Carolan.” 

44 1 think perhaps he is in love with her,” said May, 
44 and no wonder — but that is all.” 

44 Who told you that was all?” asked Mrs. Roden, rising 
from her chair. 

44 No one. Only that I believe in both Lorraine and 
Beryl.” 

44 1 admire your faith, May, and I wish that I could 
share it; but I know the world and human nature ” (she 
knew little enough of the last), 44 and I can not be so 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


189 


credulous. It was an evil day for us when Beryl Carolan 
entered our house.” 

And with those words she left the room. May had not 
attempted a reply. She was a judicious young woman, 
and knew it would be worse than useless to vindicate any 
one against whom her mother had taken a prejudice, or 
to deny that two and two made six, if Mrs. Boden had 
decided upon this startling arithmetical fact. 

At this very time Beryl had just finished a new song 
which had come in, and was about to commence another, 
when the door opened, and Harwood hobbled into the room. 

“ Anything good?” he said, sitting down on the sofa. 

He knew no more of music than did his own crutches. 

“Yes, pretty,” the girl answered. “Do you want 
me?” 

“ Well, I do partly. Say, Beryl, what are you up to 
with Gresh? He doesn’t come here as often as he used.” 

“ That’s his business.” 

“No,” with an execration; “it’s mine, too, I think, 
and I’ll bet it’s your doing. It won’t pay, girl, I tell you, 
it won’t pay. The other’s infernally risky when all’s said 
and done. This is a far safer game.” 

“ Well,” she said, “ there are plenty besides Gresham.” 

“ It won’t do,” repeated Harwood. 

He saw that Beryl was beginning to look “ dangerous,” 
and so modified his tone, and the next moment shelved off 
to something else. 

“ What’s this about an Easter party at Silver Ash, 
Beryl — Mrs. Gresham’s place?” 

“ Who told you of it?” returned Beryl, watching him 
covertly. 

“ Why, Standish; he’s one of the invites. He said Yere 
Lorraine was going there.” 

“ Yes? Aud who else?” 

“ I don’t know. The Bodens, eh?” 

“ I haven’t heard so, and I don’t think it is likely.” 

“ Why not? Emilie Gresham is very chummy with the 
girls, isn’t she? Ah! by the bye, some one told me that 
the eldest was rather sweet on handsome Lorraine, and I 
suppose he doesn’t see it. Well, it wouldn’t do if there’s 
any hitch of that sort to have ’em staying in the same 
house, and Lorraine would, of course, be first favorite with 
his cousin. What has become of Hazlemere? Not that 


190 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


he was much good — too poor — nothing to stake, and 
nothing to pay with if he lost.” 

“ Then you need not trouble about his defection, Justin. 
Now I want to practice.” 

And she returned to the piano. 

Silver Ash, Emilie Gresham’s country house, stood a 
little way from the village, or, rather, hamlet, of Stud- 
more, in Berkshire, and one day there came to the village 
a peddler who made himself very agreeable in the village 
ale-house, and asked a number of questions — though no 
one supposed he did — about Silver Ash and its inhabitants, 
and their habits. 

He did not resume his road until nightfall, and then he 
went on to Reading, the road leading past Silver Ash. 

Whether a man who, hidden by the darkness, prowled 
for more than an hour about the grounds of Silver Ash, 
and made a complete circuit of the house, was this 
peddler, who could say, for no one saw him. 

But the peddler did not go to Reading; he stopped at a 
village half-way, and when he lay down to sleep, he said to 
himself: 

44 To-morrow I will go up to the house and have a talk 
with the maids.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

HAZLEMERE IS PUZZLED. 

“ Love me, love my dog,” will certainly read, and is 
often made to read, in reverse order; and this truth Ulric 
Hazlemere soon found to his cost. While Vere Lorraine 
was in high favor in Kensington Gore, the painter was 
always made welcome , and though he did not come as a 
suitor to May, and was not recognized as such, yet he not 
unnaturally concluded, since his .visits were not discour- 
aged, that May’s parents would consider their daughter’s 
happiness* if it should become involved. 

Calling one day, however, shortly after|the last recorded 
interview between May and her mother, he found a 
change in the domestic atmosphere; May was the same to 
him, but Enid seemed distraite , and Mrs. Roden was cer- 
tainly cold. He was puzzled and perplexed. Was he mis- 
taken? he asked himself. 

He spoke by chance of Lorraine, and found that he had 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


101 


made a mistake. Enid colored; Mrs, Roden froze; Mr. 
Roden, who was present, drew himself up, and, looking at 
the ceiling, remarked that they “ had not seen Mr. Lor- 
raine lately,” and May looked startled. 

“ What on earth does it all mean?” said Hazlemere to 
himself, as he walked home that evening. “ What has 
Lorraine done? Am I suffering through him, or has Papa 
Roden taken fright? It’s too late anyhow if he has. I 
don’t mean to give May up, and I’m sure she is not quite 
indifferent to me. But I must see Lorraine — there’s some 
mystery here!” 

He went up to Albemarle Street the next evening, and 
was told Lorraine was at home. Hazlemere needed no 
announcement; he went straight upstairs and knocked at 
the door of Vere’s room. 

“ Come in,” said the clear, soft voice of the owner, and 
in walked Hazlemere. 

Lorraine rose, tossing aside a book, and holding out his 
hand. 

“ Why, Hazlemere,” he said, “ delighted to see you. 
Sit down, old fellow!” 

“ I don’t disturb you, Lorraine?” 

6 4 Disturb me? I was reading a novel. I would far 
sooner have a talk with you.” 

“ Then the novel must have been a very trashy one, I’m 
afraid,” said Hazlemere, sitting down. 

Lorraine threw himself into a fauteuil opposite, and 
replied : 

“No; it was one of - Paul Heyse’s, and a very good one. 
Well, old man, what’s the matter?” 

Hazlemere stared. 

“By Jove! Lorraine,” he said, “you’d see through a 
brick wall. If I were up to any mischief, I’d keep clear 
of you. How did you know there was anything the mat- 
ter?” 

The other smiled. 

“ Oh, I can see,” he said. “ Go ahead, Ulric.” 

“ It’s about the Rodens,” said Hazlemere, 

Lorraine did not change countenance. 

“ I can’t make them out. Have you done anything to 
offend them, Vere?” 

“ What makes you think I have?” 

“ Well, I called there yesterday and they didn’t treat me 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


m 

as they used to — they were always so friendly; but yester- 
day they seemed stiffish, all except May, and I was mightily 
puzzled. Then I happened to speak of you, and I saw 
that I had put my foot in it — that puzzled me more than 
ever; and old Eoden said, quite primly, they hadn’t seen 
you lately. ” 

“ I am afraid they are offended,” said Lorraine, 
quietly; “ but I hope they will not make you suffer. You 
are my friend, but you are not myself; and having prac- 
tically encouraged your visits, it would be hard and unjust 
to ostracize you now.” 

“ But you, Lorraine,” began Hazlemere — then stopped 
and whistled — “ what an idiot I am,” he added — “ they 
think — ” 

“ They think, Hazlemere,” said Lorraine, in the same 
manner, “ that is, I judge from what you say, Mr. and 
Mrs. Roden think I have trifled with Enid. You know 
me better. I never thought of her except as a friend. 1 
liked her, admired her — but nothing more; but 1 was told 
that my visits were misinterpreted by le pere et la mere, 
and so I went no more. They asked me once or twice, and 
I made excuses. So I suppose they saw how matters were. 
I am deeply grieved, and maybe I have been to blame — ” 

“ No, no, Lorraine,” interrupted his friend; “that I 
am certain you have not. Don’t reproach yourself. I’ve 
been there often enough, goodness knows, and I never had 
any idea you were taken with Enid; you treated her as you 
did May.” 

“ Heaven knows!” said Lorraine. “ I had no thought 
I could be misunderstood.” 

“You would if you were a vainer man, Vere.” 

Lorraine rose abruptly, and crossed the room. 

“ Don’t hint at that, Hazlemere,” he said, huskily. 
“ It is not just to her.” 

“I didn’t mean to pain you,” said Hazlemere, gently; 
“ but I think it is so — you know very well you’ve lots of 
women in love with you — the wonder would be if the} r 
weren’t! Why shouldn’t Enid Roden be like others?” 

Lorraine did not answer for a moment; then he came 
back, and flung himself into the fauteuil again. 

“ I hope you are wrong, Ulric,” he said, “for I must 
have given her cause— unwittingly— but still, I could not 
stand conscience-clear.” 


"OfEK OR VICTIM? 


193 

“ I h ave told you before, Lorraine,” said his friend, 
“ that you were too sensitive for a lawyer. You have no 
sort of right in this case to make yourself out in fault, 
though you are trying to shield, even to your own heart, a 
woman who has made a mistake— a mistake for which I 
can never see why women are to be blamed. If a hand- 
some, attractive fellow comes in their wav, they onlv follow 
human nature in getting to fall in love with him. * Show- 
ing it is another thing.” 

“ Yet a high-minded woman, TJlric, always shrinks from 
the idea of giving her love unsought. Still, with you, 
while I admire her for that feeling,' I do not blame her as 
she blames herself. But the thought that one may have 
injured a woman’s peace must be cr uel to a man not a cox- 
comb or a heartless flirt!” 

“ I know it, Vere. All I say is— you are in no fault.” 

“ I hope not,” said the other. 44 But of yourself now! 
Surely they can not be so unjust as to punish you for my 
sins because you are my friend ?”J 

44 I don’t know; they are certainly changed. I don’t 
know what to make of it. I hardly like to go to the 
house.” 

44 1 will find out how matters stand from Emmie,” said 
Lorraine, 44 and if she can help you I know she will.”"' - 

Hazlemere’s brow cleared. 

- ‘ Thanks!” he said. 44 I know what you can do, .and 
Mrs. Gresham is the dearest little woman living. You 
told me a week ago you thought her husband was begin- 
ning to turn over a new leaf.” 

44 He is trying hard, Hazlemere. There is cpnsiderable 
change in him already. I keep touch of his doings, and 
he is — at present — a different man from what he was even 
two months ago. The thing is — will he persevere — and I 
think he will.” 

44 That is a great deal for you to say, Lorraine. You 
have not much faith in human nature.” 

44 Kot much. How should I have? But remember, 
Gresham has never really ceased to love his wife. Bad as 
he was — believing, too, that he cared nothing for her- — he 
did care, and the old root is sending forth shoots again.” 

44 He seemed entirely infatuated with Beryl Carolan— as 
I was so near being,” he added in a lower tone. 

Lorraine’s dark eyes flashed. 


194 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


tc But you/’ he said, slowly, 44 have found safe anchor- 
age 

44 Thank Heaven — yes! And Gresham ?” 

44 If his wife forgives him, Ulric, he will owe it to Beryl 
Carolan!” 

Hazlemere started, and bent forward eagerly. 

44 Lorraine, you mean that she — ” 

44 1 mean that she has used her influence over him as 
only a pure-hearted, noble woman would use it; and that 
Gresham yielded to such influence showed me, more than 
anything else could have shown me, how much good there 
was under all the dross of his character.” 

44 A pure-hearted, noble woman indeed!” said the 
painter, fervently; 44 but, Yere, I could never, somehow, 
think her otherwise. Despite her surroundings — despite 
the mystery surrounding her past life — many things that 
seemed against her, she herself, her look, her manner, the 
indefinable something that can not be mistaken, bore the 
impress of what she was. Why, standing there alone, 
with no creature to protect her, but rather the reverse — 
with her wonderful beauty — and fair butt, it would seem, 
for insult, she compels the respect of the roues who are, 
for the most part, her guests. I am not sayiug all this for 
your sake, Lorraine, but because I feel it — I m ight say, I 
know it.” 

44 No, Hazlemere,” said Yere Lorraine, 44 you are a 
friend of the true metal, who may keep silence to spare a 
wound, but will never speak falsely. For my sake! Well, 
why should I hide the truth from you? — it is only- that 
invincible reserve of mine, and perhaps — because — there 
seems now — so little hope.” 

44 She loves you, then, Yere?” 

44 Ay, she loves me — and for the rest — Heaven knows!” 

44 And Heaven help you, Lorraine! You see her still 
sometimes?” 

44 Yes — how else could I endure my life?” returned 
Lorraine, passionately. 44 She would have had us part 
forever — she refused to be my wife— but I would not 
accept total banishment — I could not — I made her yield to 
me in that.” 

Hazlemere was silent. What could he say? He knew 
that with a man of Lorraine’s temperament no other solu- 
tion was possible; he knew that Lorraine had not resigned 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


195 


his claim. Would it end in victory for him? It must end 
so, unless another and even more terrible solution were 
found; but such a marriage would be a social disaster for 
Vere Lorraine. 

Yet Beryl’s sublime self-sacrifice in refusing her lover’s 
prayer only showed her the more worthy of the position 
and the happiness she deliberately put from her for his 
sake, and would only strengthen — if that were needed — his 
determination to conquer hers. 

How could he, besides, endure to see the woman he 
loved and justly honored continuing in a position so 
equivocal; her name the butt of any one who chose to levy 
slander at it; she herself compelled to receive men whose 
very presence was almost an insult to her — who might con- 
sider themselves justified in offering her actual insult! 
But, said Hazlemere, inwardly, the pity on’t — oh, the pity 
on’t! that Vere Lorraine should have given his love to 
Beryl Carolan. 

When Lorraine spoke again — for a silence of some mo- 
ments followed his last words — it was of other things; and 
Hazlemere, understanding that his friend wished to put 
that subject aside, took the cue, and made no further allu- 
sion to Beryl. 

But on his way home he mused sorrowfully on what he 
had heard, though it was no more than he had expected. 

I knew it would come to this,” he said to himself, 
“ when he told me that day he must go to Hanover Street. 
I’m afraid it had pretty well come to it then. To such a 
man as Lorraine recoil is impossible when a certain point 
is past. I could draw back in time; but his is a deeper, 
more fiery nature than mine. I doubt if, for him, there 
is an ‘ in time ’ in such a case. And to be loved by such 
a woman ! Well, I was wise. I should have wasted my 
heart in vain. My bonny May is better suited to me, and 
I think she is of the same opinion. I wonder how long I 
shall be able to keep from asking her if I am right?” 

The remainder of Mr. Hazlemere’s musings were de- 
cidedly chaotic, and could not easily be recorded in intel- 
ligible language, even were they worth recording, which no 
one who has been in love, and can look back calmly on his 
own lunacy, would imagine they were. 


196 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

MR. RODEN SPEAKS. 

“ I don't think we ought to encourage young Hazle- 
mere to come so often," said Mr. Roden, standing before 
the fire in the breakfast-room one morning; for, though 
early in April, the weather was chilly. 

Enid and May had quitted the room, and Mrs. Roden 
was just finishing a letter. 

So abruptly and a propos of nothing in particular was 
the above remark delivered, that the lady looked up 
startled. 

“ Yes," she said, vaguely. “ But what made you think 
of it just now, Sydney?" 

“ It isn't the" first time, my dear. The fellow has no 
money. I don't intend that May shall marry a poor 
artist." 

Mrs. Roden laid down her letter and prepared for a cam- 
paign. She had visited upon Ulric Hazlemere the supposed 
sins of his friend Lorraine, but her husband was taking 
up new ground, and she was by no means sure of yielding 
it to him. 

“ I think he likes May," she began, diplomatically, 
feeling her way. 

“ Naturally enough; and no doubt he likes the dot " 
(Mr. Roden pronounced this word “ dott ") “ which she 
will receive. " 

“Be just to him, Sydney," said his wife. “I don't 
believe that of young Hazlemere for a minute. I think he 
would have spoken to May before this, if they had been 
on equal terms." 

“ Then it isn't honorable in him," retorted Mr. Roden, 
“ to be dangling about a girl he can’t ask to be his wife. 
Of course one can’t actually snub him, but he should not 
be encouraged." 

“ The last includes the first," said Mrs. Roden. “ I 
own I have not felt very cordial to him, on account of Vere 
Lorraine; but if May's feelings are engaged — " 

“ She must get over such nonsense, my dear. Young 
women of twenty don't break their hearts for anybody. 
May could do much better — very much better." 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


197 


“ But we should have thought of all this before, Sydney; 
and as to breaking hearts, I don’t know. It would be very 
hard,” said Mrs. Roden, and her voice broke a little, “ if 
both our children should be made unhappy.” 

“ May won’t be unhappy,” said Mr. Roden, testily, 
because he knew he was in the wrong. “ At any rate, I must 
ask you not to encourage Hazlemere — don’t invite him; 
and when he calls, let him understand that he can come as 
a friend, and nothing more.” 

“ I am afraid,” replied Mrs. Roden, coldly, as she rose, 
“ that it is too late for such tactics. You can not throw 
young people together, Sydney, or allow them to be 
together, and put your own limits on the extent of their 
feelings for one another.” 

She was accustomed to rule in the house, of which Mr. 
Roden’s headship was more nominal than actual, and she 
had no intention of yielding to this new departure on the 
part of her husband, unless it squared with her own views. 

Indeed, Mr. Roden’s move was a lucky one for Ulric 
Hazlemere; for, whereas Mrs. Roden had been inclined of 
late to “ frown upon Jamie,” not because he was poor, 
but because he was Yere Lorraine’s friend, her husband’s 
ipse dixit aroused her opposition and inclined her to favor 
the young artist. She knew, as an old diplomatist, that if 
she once gave up her leadership on an important point, she 
would have a severe struggle for supremacy in the future. 

A woman who means to rule should yield to the man in 
small things, never in great ones. 

Mr. Roden turned sharply, as his wife, evidently con- 
sidering the discussion closed, moved toward the door. 

“ What do you mean, Grace,” he demanded, “ that you 
shall encourage young Hazlemere?” 

“ I mean, Sydney,” she answered, “ that I, as hostess, 
must use my own discretion in regard to my guests.” 

* 4 Your guests — yes. But this is not a question of 
guests.” . 

“ Pardon me, it is. Mr. Hazlemere has done nothing 
to justify us in looking upon him overtly as a suitor to 
May. When he does so, it will be time enough to inter- 
fere.” 

“ When it is too late.” 

Mrs. Roden smiled. 

“ It may be too late now, Sydney; but I repeat, that at 


198 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 

present Mr. Hazlemere is only a visitor, whom we have 
hitherto received cordially, and to turn round upon him 
suddenly, without any just reason, and practically snub 
him, would be both cruel and ill-bred.” 

“ Very well!” cried the M. P., angrily, 44 do as you like. 
(“I intend to,” aside from Mrs. Roden). 44 But 1 tell 
you, May sha'n’t marry that fellow!” 

To this the Roden mere gave no reply. She quietly went 
out of the room, leaving her husband with the last word — 
a privilege more often claimed and exercised by men than 
they choose to admit. 

When Hazlemere, not easily daunted, called that after- 
noon, Mrs. Roden received him quite in her old manner, 
and he, not knowing the under-currents that had wrought 
this change, wondered while he rejoiced. 

44 1 thought,” he said in a low tone to May, as they 
stood apart, both apparently intent on admiring a tropical 
plant, which neither knew anything about, and cared still 
less — 44 that is, I was afraid I had in some way offended 
your mother.” 

44 Were you?” said May, innocently. 44 Why?” 

44 She seemed so cold to me last time 1 called.” 

44 Oh, that must have been your fancy!” said May, 
bending very low over a brilliant, scentless bloom. 

44 It wasn't my fancy, and — forgive me — you know it 
wasn't. Miss Roden; but she is as kind as ever to-day, and 
so, perhaps — ” 

“ So perhaps,” said May, archly, and it must have been 
the reflection of the flower that made her cheeks so rosy, 
4 4 it was your fancy after all.” 

44 Have it your own way,” replied Hazlemere. 44 1 don't 
mind how often you contradict me.” 

44 You are very meek.” 

44 Am I? You see it is a pleasure even to be contradicted 
by you. No! don't go away, please,” for May turned 
from the plant; 44 we haven't half admired this tropical — 
what d'ye call it — have we?” 

44 1 really don’t know its name,” said May. 44 Enid is 
the botanist; but it's very handsome, isn’t it?” 

44 Yes, very,” said Hazlemere, with remarkable earnest- 
ness, considering that he thought it hideous. And they 
admired the flower for the next ten minutes— that is, they 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


199 


remained standing by it; and Hazlemere really felt grate- 
ful to the scarlet thing with the prickly leaves. 

Perhaps even May conceived a certain affection for the 
plant, though she would not have owned it for worlds. 


I 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

‘‘ WE CAN NOT PART.” 

Moral courage is a virtue in which men are notoriously 
deficient. Vere Lorraine was, however, one of the few ex- 
ceptions to a rule; yet even he shrunk from the stern, 
inevitable duty of telling Beryl Carolan the grim truth, 
that might cause her to insist on entire separation. 

His marriage, when he had spoken to her of the past, 
was an uncertainty; his wife (if wife she was) might be, 
probably was, dead. The marriage itself was, as likely as 
not — considering all the circumstances — a sham; very 
possibly the whole affair was, as Lorraine tried to hope, 
a dream or a vision. 

But now he knew the truth; now there was not more 
room for doubt; he had a wife, and she still lived. He 
was bound not to keep this from Beryl. What would her 
decision be? 

For more than a week he had not seen Beryl, and he felt 
that he must see her soon; yet to tell her this miserable 
truth — how could he do it? 

“ I am a coward!” he muttered to himself one evening. 
“ Why not go to-night; I may be able to see her alone 
before any one else comes.” 

Having made the resolve, he was not the man to go back 
from it. He went out, and hailed a hansom, and was 
driven off to Hanover Street. 

He was shown into the drawing-room, and found it un- 
tenanted. But perhaps there might be guests at dinner, 
and he would have no opportunity of seeing Beryl alone. 

He was not long left in suspense. In three minutes the 
door opened,- and Beryl, in picturesque robes of silver 
satin, and coral, and red velvet, came in. 

She said not a word, but threw herself into her lover's 
open arms, and clung to him as surely only a woman can 
cling whose heart, but for this one love, is desolate, whose 
life knows no other sunshine but this. 


200 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


44 My treasure!” said Lorraine, at last, lifting her beau- 
tiful face to his, that he might feast his eyes upon it. 
“ How could 1 stay so long away from you? Beryl, can I 
see you alone for a little while?” 

“ Yes, Vere; we are alone this evening until ten o’clock. 
Justin is never in the room earlier than that; besides, he 
knows you are here.” 

“ It was cowardice kept me away. Beryl,” Lorraine said, 
as she drew him to a seat, placing herself on a stool at his 
feet. 

The girl leaned her golden head back against him, and 
looked up in his face wistfully. 

“ What do you mean?” she asked, softly. 

He winced under the gaze, but drew her closer to him as 
he answered, steadily: 

“ There was something I had to tell you, and I lacked 
the courage, Beryl.” 

“ But you lack it no longer, Vere; tell it to me now.” 

He turned his face from her, and spoke the next words 
with an effort: 

“ My one hope is lost to me, Beryl. My marriage was 
no figment, but a fact; and my wife is living.” 

A start — a kind of shiver went though Beryl; otherwise 
she did not move. 

“ How do you know this?” she asked, with a strange 
quietness. “ Tell me all, Vere.” 

So Lorraine repeated what had passed between him and 
Bernard Harrington, Beryl listening in silence, and with 
her head bent down; nor did she speak when the miserable 
story was finished. 

Lorraine bent down to her. 

“ Beryl,” he said, passionately, “ tell me — I can not 
endure suspense — you will not let this part us — you will 
not send me away from you?” 

For a moment the girl held her breath; then she lifted 
her head, and her eyes met his full. 

He bent over her again, answering that look, and his 
lips met hers. 

“ My darling,” he said, when he could speak, “ you are 
indeed good to me!” 

“ Don’t call me good,” the girl said, tremulously; “ for 
it is I that am cowardly! Oh, Vere, I could not send you 
quite away from me — now!” 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


201 


A perilous confession to make; but even in such a mo- 
ment, Beryl Carolan would not have made it if her instinct 
had not told her truly the man who heard that confession 
so 44 binding sweet ” was incapable of taking advantage of 
it. If his eyes flashed and his cheek glowed, it was with 
no emotion that could threaten her peace or his honor. 
He folded her to his breast, not being able to speak in the 
tumult of passionate joy that filled his heart. 

He had so dreaded this interview; and now Beryl’s lips 
had bidden him stay, by the admission that she had no 
strength to banish him from her side. 

What must the end be? Perhaps neither of them had 
any thought of the future in these first minutes 44 molten 
through with bliss.” But by and by Lorraine spoke very 
low, but resolutely: 

44 1 shall not submit,” he said, 44 to the yoke of a mar- 
riage which is no more than a mockery. I will find Nina.” 

44 Find her,” said Beryl; 44 but how?” 

44 1 shall try to trace her from Barra Creek.” 

44 A hopeless quest, Vere; it was ten years ago. You 
have no idea where to seek her — whether she is in England 
or abroad; and if you found her — ” 

She paused. 

44 If I found her. Beryl, I would do my utmost to have 
the marriage declared null.” 

44 Then you would be free,” Beryl said, slowly, 44 and 
then?” 

He put his trembling lips to her brow. 

44 Darling!” he whispered, 44 you know.” 

The girl’s heart beat fast; she had to struggle for self- 
control before she could answer her lover. 

44 Yes, I know,” she said; 44 but, oh, Vere, it can never 
be — it never shall be!” 

. 44 Beryl, you can not resist me forever; sooner or later, 
you must yield.” 

The flush on her cheek faded into deathly paleness. 

44 No,” she said, under her breath, 44 1 will die first!” 

Lorraine, too, was white to the very lips; his resolve was 
a3 strong as her own. 

44 You will live,” he said, 44 and live to be my wife!” 

When the final strife came, which would conquer? 


202 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

ABOUT SILVER ASH. 

“We go down to Silver Ash just before Easter, ” said 
Emilie Gresham, “ and that is just upon us now. Father 
Bernard, I know you can’t come down at Easter, but 
can’t you give us a few days after it?” 

It was Sunday evening. Vere Lorraine had accompanied 
his cousin to St. Eanswythe’s to evensong, and they had 
afterward gone to the clergy-house to have supper with Mr. 
Harrington. 

Supper was over, and the trio were seated round the fire. 

“ I am sure,” added Emilie, eagerly, “ the rest and 
country air would do you a world of good; you are looking 
fagged — isn’t he, Vere?” m 

The priest smiled. 

“You are very — very kind,” he said; “ and, indeed, if 
1 can arrange matters here, I shall be only too happy to 
accept your invitation. A young friend of mine is coming 
up to town at Easter, and if he will take duty for me for a 
few days, I shall be able to come down. Whom does your 
party consist of?” 

“ Vere, for one; Mr. Malleson, a very clever author, 
for another; then there’s Mrs. Bennett, my husband’s 
cousin; Lord Charles Welby, Lila Campbell, and Marcia 
Dene — all nice people. I shall count on you, Mr. Har- 
rington. I won’t let you off.” 

“ I will promise tentatively. I can’t do more than that.” 

“ You’ll have to content yourself with that, Em,” said 
her cousin, smiling. 

“ I suppose I must,” said Emilie; “ but I shall never 
forgive Father Bernard if he fails me.” 

Before Mr. Harrington could answer, the door opened 
and his servant appeared. 

“ If you please, sir, there’s a poor woman wants to see 
you for a few minutes.” 

The priest rose at once. 

“ Excuse me,” he said to his guests, and quitted the 
room. 

Lorraine turned to his cousin. 


SIKNER OR VICTIM? 


203 


“ Emmie/’ he said, “you wanted to have asked the 
Rodens to Silver Ash. You spoke about it a month ago.” 

“ Yes; but yesterday isn’t to-day. I couldn’t ask Enid. 
You see, with you and May, without Enid— that would 
never do. It would look so marked.” 

“ Of course, my dear; but what I meant is— Ask 
them, and I can easily form some reason for not being 
able to go down.” 

“What!” cried Emilie; “ give you up for them? Cer- 
tainly not. I am very fond of them all, Vere; but, of 
course, I love you ever so much more. I won’t hear of 
such a transposition.” 

“You’re a dear little soul!” said he, taking her hand 
for a moment in his own. “ Very well; I must say no 
more; only I did not want to be the cause of depriving you 
of your friends’ society.” 

“ That can’t be helped, Vere. It’s a choice between 
two, and I prefer you. I wonder, too, what the other 
guests would say? I don’t think either Mrs. Bennett or 
Marcia Dene would care to come if you were to be non 
est .” 

“ Ah,” said Lorraine, “ one can flirt safely with Mrs. 
Bennett, since she has a husband; but Marcia Dene — no!” 

“ She’s awfully pretty, though, Vere. Don’t you think 
so?” 

“ Yes. What then? It would be nothing to me, you 
know, coz, if she had the beauty of Helen. It’s no use 
your trying to make up matches for me, Em.” 

“No; I don’t think it is,” replied Mrs. Gresham, sor- 
rowfully. “ I wish it was.” 

“ I don’t, my dear.” 

“ But then, I can’t see it as you do, Vere. Tell me, is 
it true that — 1 mean — you love Beryl Carolan beyond 
recall?” 

“ Or I should not love her at all, Emmie. You know 
me well enough for that.” 

“ But, Vere, you can not make her your wife.” 

“ Then no other woman shall be,” he said, quietly. 

“ If this cloud that hangs over her could be lifted,” said 
Emmie, almost in a whisper; “ if she could be proved in- 
nocent of that robbery — ” 

“ Yet, even without such proof, I would marry her — 
if it were possible.” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


204 

“ She refuses ?” 

s< She refuses — yes/’ / 

Once more the door opened and Mr. Harrington re- 
entered the room, and then general things were talked 
about until Emmie and Lorraine took their leave and (trav- 
eled westward. 

If Mrs. Gresham had accepted her cousin’s resignation — 
if, by those or any other means, Vere Lorraine had not 
gone to Silver Ash that Easter — how diderent might his 
future have been! 

His fate — and not his fate alone — was decided by an 
invitation to stay a few days at a country house. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

FROM HUSBAND TO WIFE. 

“ Beryl, tell me; do you think that I may, that 1 dare 
write to my wife, and ask if there is any hope of her one 
day forgiving mo?” 

So Herbert Gresham asked his “ better angel,” laying 
his hand on hers, as he sat by her side. 

He had come to seek her counsel and help; he would not 
take this momentous step in his life without her advice and 
sanction. 

It was strange and pathetic to see this man, experienced 
in the world, who had tasted deep of its pleasures, who had 
sinned heavily, and lived years of selfish recklessness, 
clinging to, depending on, a woman — almost a girl in 
years — making her the arbiter of his fate; trembling be- 
tween hope and fear in a crisis of his existence, as to what 
her fiat might be, ready to yield instant obedience if she 
should disappoint his hope and confirm his fear. 

Beryl Carolan felt the pathos, and fully realized the 
responsibility of a position simply impossible to any but 
a woman endowed with very remarkable attributes; but 
she felt no elation, no touch of ignoble pleasure in her 
absolute influence over Herbert Gresham. Her happiness 
was entirely unalloyed; and surely there can be no purer 
happiness than the knowledge of having saved a man or 
a woman from moral ruin. She was too high-minded — 
even had it not been unnecessary— to put her power to the 
fullest test, by asking: “ If I say do not write yet, what 
then?” She knew what her final answer to Gresham’s 


SINKER OR VICTIM F 205 

question would be, and she gave it at once, straightfor- 
wardly and simply. 

“Yes,” she said, gently; “ write to her — why not?” 

Ah! Beryl,” Gresham began, eagerly; then paused; 
“ vhy not?” he added, in an altered tone; “a thousand 
reasons — why not. I don’t feel as if I were fit to ever look 
hei in the face again.” 

“ Yet,” said Beryl, in the same manner, “ a man can 
do no more than repent and make restitution. You have 
wronged your wife bitterly; but she loves you, and love 
can forgive.” 

“ Can it forgive so much?” he asked, his voice trem- 
bling. 

“ It has no limit,” answered Beryl; “ at least, a wom- 
an's love has none. Write; I think you will not meet with 
a rebuff.” 

“ If I do I shall deserve it,” said Gresham in a low voice. 
“Ah! Beryl, I scarcely dare to venture, I so dread fail- 
ure — ” 

“ And if you failed,” said Beryl, slowly, “ if you met 
with a rebuff, what would you do?” 

He started and flushed, and for a minute sat quite still; 
then he turned his face full to hers. 

“ What would you have me do?” he said. 

“ Ho you mean that as I should advise, so you would 
act?” 

“ As you should command, Beryl.” 

“ Then I would say, go on in the nobler life you have 
begun; you deserve the punishment, accept it. You have 
burned your boats behind you; there is no going back to 
the old degraded life; and if you gave it up only to win 
back happiness, that is no giving up at all. I knew you 
did not do that; I know you will be true to yourself in the 
future, whatever may happen.” 

“ Heaven bless you, Beryl!” He pressed his lips to her 
hand. “ Yes, I will be true to myself, and to you. Ah! 
you need not fear; I shall always love you; how could I do 
otherwise? . But my love is worship; it could not, even in 
thought, wrong vou.” 

“ 1 know it,” she said, gently. “ I do not fear; and 
shall always love you as my dearest, most valued friend — ” 

“ You will. Beryl? you will so really think of me?” 


20G 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Else I had not said it. Though I can seldom or neve 
see you — ” 

“ Stay, Beryl! what do you mean?” 

“ I mean,” she said, quietly, “that when you are it 
home again, you must not come here any more.” 

“ Not come here! — never to see you!” cried Gresham. 
“Oh! Beryl, Emilie could not ask this. To you she would 
owe everything; she could not, if she doubted me, douot 
you!” 1 

“You are a man of the world,” said Beryl, “ and ypu 
must know that I am right. Your wife could not come to 
my house, therefore you must not. You can not ask too 
much of her; moreover, the world would recognize no such 
friendship as yours and mine.” 

“ But it is hard — cruel!” he said, covering his face. 
“You are my better angel. Beryl. I don't feel as if I 
could go on without your help.” 

“You will have your wife’s help,” said Beryl. 

“ Yes; but I want yours, too!” he answered, taking her 
hand in his. 

She did not withdraw it, though there might have 
seemed some cause to fear that the old passion was resum- 
ing its sway. But Beryl had no such fear; if she had had 
it she would still have acted as she did now; to show dis- 
trust might have done the very mischief dreaded. 

“ You forget now,” she said, after a pause, “ that you 
will soon cease to miss me—” 

“ Beryl, Beryl — never, never!” 

“ An old cry with all of us,” said the girl, half sad — how 
much wiser were her twenty-five years than his thirty- 
eight! — “ and we learn in time to smile at it.” 

“ Not with women like you, Beryl.” 

Here Herbert Gresham was right, and Beryl was silent — 
she spoke generally, and so speaking was right; but she 
had not thought of the deception that proves the rule, the 
individual application had escaped her; but Gresham's 
words only strengthened her resolve, if that were needed; 
if her magnetism were indeed so strong, how long could she 
rely upon his maintaining the present relations existing 
between them? There must be no counter-attraction to his 
wife. So Beryl, though she spoke gently, spoke firmly. 

“ It is for your own sake,” she said, “ and it is a mat- 
ter of right.” 


SnttTBB OR VICTIM? 


207 


“ Since it is your wish/’ Gresham answered, 44 I must 
submit; but I will hope, I can not help that, that one day 
ihe barrier may be broken down; that Emilie will welcome 
y>u as a friend.” 

A faint color crossed Beryl’s cheek, habitually so pale 
tint even so slight a change of hue was marked. She 
averted her head. 

“ No,” she said, very quietly, “ 1 don’t think that can 
ever be; best not to think of it or hope for it.” 

14 Why not hope? I want her to love you. Beryl.” 

;< To love me?” She almost smiled, the idea seemed so 
strange. 4 4 That might have been once, not now. You 
seem to have forgotten that, besides the taint of this place 
which hangs about my name, I am still morally guilty of 
theft.” 

44 Beryl, you are not — not to me!” 

i4 Not to you, because you wish to believe me innocent; 
but to the world at large.” 

. 44 But Emilie — ” began Gresham, impetuously. 

44 Emilie,” said Beryl, taking him up, 44 whether her 
own opinion acquitted me or not, could not receive, could 
not visit a practically convicted thief, and the presiding 
genius of Justin Harwood’s salon. Between her and me 
there is a great gulf, and she could not pass it if she would; 
I would not if I could. I don’t rail at the world — the 
world is, in the main, just to me. We can not treat some 
of the principal unwritten canons as heresies and not suffer 
pains and penalties.” 

So bitterly true, and yet, in her case, so cruel ! Gresham 
only covered his face and was silent. When Beryl spoke 
again, it was in an altered tone. 

44 Write to your wife,” she said, softly, 44 and when you 
hear from her, come and see me again, and tell me the 
tenor of her answer, if you will.” 

44 If I will! Have you not a right. Beryl, to know all?” 

44 No right; only the privilege of deepest sympathy.” 

44 The right,” said Gresham, rising, 44 of the noblest 
generosity; "in every way you have saved me from myself. 
Perhaps you can not believe me— why should you? — when 
I say that, whatever happens, I can never be again what I 
have been for years, the mere thought of you and of my 
wife would keep me from it— and it was you who taught 
me to know that I still loved, her. ” 


m 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


Beryl’s eyes were full of tears; her lips trembled; sh 
could not speak at first, but when Gresham bent his hea 
and kissed the hand he had taken again in his, she sal’ 
almost in a whisper: 

“ You have given me something better than happine 3. 
Heaven prosper you! Remember she wore the jewels 
sent her!” 

So Herbert Gresham left her; and a few hours late 
letter was put into Emilie’s hand, which made all 
blood in her body rush to her heart, and for a few inome its 
she was as one numb to all sensation save this mad, wild 
throbbing of joy, seeing nothing^but the characters before 
her, the handwriting “ so well, so dearly known,” which 
her eyes had so long ached to see, and now they beheld: 
and the sight was more beautiful than the dawn after the 
weary night of watching. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

“as your own heart dictates.” 

“ You sent for me, Emilie?” 

Even as he said these words, Lorraine half divined what 
had happened from the radiant face liis cousin raised to 
him as she came forward. He smiled as he stooped to kiss 

her. 

“ Come here and sit by me, Vere.” She was trembling; 
her cheek was flushed; her eyes shining. Lorraine obeyed 
her, and then she drew out a letter, and put it in his hand. 
** You may read it,” she said — “ only you.” 

He read the letter carefully, and lifted his eyes to hers — 
her eves were blind with tears. 

“ Vere,” she said, impulsively, “ what am I to do?” 

“ What does your own heart dictate, Emmie?” 

“ My own heart says 4 come, * ” she answered; “ but I 
might be wrong, and I know you could not be.” 

“ My sweet, trusting little sister!” He clasped her 
hand closely in his. 44 Xo, Emmie, your heart is right 
this time. Follow it!” 

“ Oh! Vere, Vere, you have made me so happy!” 

She burst into tears, weeping for very joy, and Lorraine 
drew her within his arms, and let her weep out her happi- 
ness on his breast, and when she grew calmer he talked 
with her of her husband. 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


209 


Emmie felt as if her tongue could “ wag on that theme 
forever,” and he did not grow weary of it because she did 
not; his was essentially the sympathetic nature which feels 
not only for but with others. 

But by and by Emmie said, after a moment’s pause: 

“ I have been very egotistical all this time, Vere — talk- 
ing only of myself and my own happiness.” 

“ And so — of mine, Emmie, dear!” 

“ Because you are so loving, so generous, Vere! But I 
must speak to you now of something — of some one else.” 

“ Do you mean of Beryl?” 

te Yes! Ah! Vere, I owe all to her. I must go to her — 
I must thank her myself!” 

A quick flush crossed the man’s cheek, his eyes glowed; 
but he shook his head. 

“ I doubt if she would see you, Emmie,” he said. “ She 
does not see any cause for your gratitude, and she is very 
proud.” 

“ Too proud to let me clasp her hand and tell her how 
deeply grateful I am to her? Of course, she would not 
own to having done noble deeds — people capable of such 
things are just those who take them as an every-day mat- 
ter; but I can not feel so — can not act so.” 

“ As you will, Emmie— : again, your own heart must 
guide you. Heaven bless you, dear!” 

Emmie put her hand into his. 

“ Vere,” she said, softly, “ it is very, very hard, that 
this woman, so noble, so blameless, can never be your 
wife — forgive me!” 

“ Forgive you, Emmie, who never speak save in love?” 
lie said, hoarsely. 4 4 But my sorrow must not cloud your 
happiness.” 

“ Must it not, Vere? You are too dear to me for me to 
feel quite happy when you are not!” 

Lorraine pressed her hand reverently, remaining silent 
for a few minutes. 

Presently he said in a low voice: 

“ I have asked her to be my wife, Emmie, but she — re- 
fused — for my sake.” 

“ Vere! — but you could not?” 

“ Could not? By Heaven, I would!— and one day 1 
will!” 


210 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ But,” said Emilie, earnestly, “ think of the suspicion 
that hangs over her. ” 

“ I think of 'nothing, Emmie — only that I love her, ahd 
that she is spotless — far more than worthy of all the wor- 
ship I lavish on her.” 

And to this, what could Emilie answer? 

Love and prudence are seldom close friends, and though 
Lorraine presented an extreme instance of that fact, he 
was none the more open to any argument in favor of pru- 
dence. 

So Emilie w&s wise in her generation, and held her peace; 
but while she admired Beryl Carolan the more for her self- 
abnegation, she said within herself: 

44 1 am glad, in one way, that she has made the sacrifice; 
but since Lorraine still sees her, he will, sooner or later, 
win the battle.” 


CHAPTER XL. ' 

WHAT THE QUID NUNCS SAID. 

“ So they’ve made it up again,” said Rowcliffe, in the 
smoking-room of the Athenian. “ Gresh has turned over 
a new leaf — become quite a good boy!” 

“ Turned over a new. leaf?” exclaimed Lord Charles 
Welby. “ Turned over a new volume, you mean — run into 
vol. three.” 

“Ah!” put in Malleson. “Vol. i. — good boy; vol. ii. 

-very naughty boy; vol. iii. — extra good boy — is that it?” 

The others laughed. 

Delves, who was one of the group, said, with a shrug: 

“ How long will it last?” 

“ Who’d be rash enough to prophesy?” remarked Row- 
cliffe. “ But, you know, he was awfully in love with la 
telle Carolan, and she wouldn’t look at him.” 

“ He took it with a good grace, though,” observed 
Standish, “ for he still went to Hanover Street, and 
talked of Beryl Carolan as if she were an angel.” 

“ So she is!” from all. 

“ Yes! I mean that he seemed to look upon her as if 
she were a tutelary saint.” 

“ And so she was, I believe!” said Malleson. “ I rather 
fancy Gresh owed his reconciliation with his wife to Bervl 
Carolan. ” 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


211 


44 Did he?" said Rowcliffe. 44 Well, I should know 
she'd never listen to him if he made love to her; but one 
would hardly have expected the kind of thing you speak of 
from Hanover Street — seems rather good for her to go in 
for reforming naughty boys." 

“ I don't see it!" said Malleson, rather dryly. 44 If she 
had her way, that salon wouldn’t exist, I know." 

4 4 That’s right enough," said Delves. 44 Do you notice, 
too, that she never touches the cards herself?" 

4 4 And often stops the young ones from playing," added 
Standish. 

44 1 can't make out her putting up with the whole 
thing!" said Malleson; 44 and I’d lay anything Harwood 
doesn't always play fair." 

44 Think he’s a Greek?" asked Rowcliffe. 

44 H’m! I won’t go up so far as that; and, mind you, he 
is honestly skillful. Never saw such a whist-player, and 
I know something about the game. And euchre! he'd 
beat a California ranchman, which is saying something. 
Still, when all allowances are made, I’m sure there’s some- 
thing more." 

44 But supposing that is t so," said Standish, 44 you don't 
think Beryl knows it?" 

44 She must suspect it, I imagine. Even if she knew it, 
it wouldn't be more inexplicable than her being where she 
is at all." 

44 She can’t help herself, maybe," said Welby. 

44 Nonsense, man! She could go on the stage any day 
and make a fortune with her beauty, and her knowledge to 
back it up. She has acted already in Italy, you know." 

44 So I heard; and the diamond robbery and its conse- 
quent notoriety would be advantages rather than draw- 
backs " 

44 1* should think so. By the way, handsome Lorraine 
still goes to Hanover Street, though seldom to the salon. 
The Rodens have cut him." 

44 Or he them. Which is it?" 

44 Well, I don’t know. Some say they think it's not all 
square in regard to Beryl Carolan, and the Rodens don t 
admire that; some, that Enid admired Lorraine too much, 
and he didn't see it; so, finding a mistake was made, he 

held aloof." . ,, . 

44 They are not coming down to Silver Ash, said Mai- 


212 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


leson, “ and Lorraine is; so, evidently, there’s some split 
between them; and Mrs. Gresham, of course, prefers him 
to them.” 

44 Moreover, the ladies wouldn’t forgive her for sacrific- 
ing him,” said Rowcliffe; 44 though it’s not much good 
their troubling about him. His some-time client has made 
all the running.” 

44 When does the party meet?” asked Delves. 

44 Next week, my boy — just after Easter. We’re to 
have a parson among us for two or three days, so we must 
be on our good behavior.” 

44 And I suppose Gresh won’t play cards now,” cried 
young Welby, laughing. 

44 We can try him. I dare say the old Adam isn’t quite 
extinguished in him,” remarked Rowcliffe. 44 As for 
Lorraine, he never was a card-player. He’ll sit all night 
and play chess, and vote cards a 4 bore. ’ That’s a kind of 
thing I can’t understand.” 

44 Doesn’t follow it’s an enigma, though,” said Malleson, 
rising. 44 Ta-ta, dear boys! I’m off to a matinee 

44 1 pity you!” cried two or three. 

44 No, you don’t; you envy me. I’m going with Beryl 
Carolan!” And with this parting shot, Malleson took 
himself off. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

44 I WILL WATCH HIM.” 

44 You’re cutting your own throat and mine too,” said 
Justin Harwood, abruptly, and with characteristic elegance 
of simile. 

They were seated at luncheon, a meal seldom without 
guests; but to-day, for a wonder, they were alone. Some- 
thing had been said by Harwood about Lorraine, and Beryl 
replied carelessly; then suddenly, without any preliminary, 
and apparently a propos of nothing, Harwood made the 
above remark; but Beryl knew only too well what he 
meant. 

44 1 am doing you no harm,” she said. 44 The harm to 
you would be if I did what you seem to want of me.” 

44 Would it? Do you suppose I wouldn’t have my share 
of his money? I’m worth buying, and I’d turn up this 
place, and a good deal, if not all, the other business; it’s 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


213 


pretty risky. And here you’re always standing in my 
light. You made Gresh turn it up, and others you try to 
set against the play.” 

44 I won’t stand by and see you rook them out of every- 
thing!” said Beryl. 

44 Well, then, you’ll have to!” was the rough answer; 
44 or I’ll be even with you in some other way. I’ll get the 
money, anyhow.” 

44 What money?” asked Beryl, coolly; but her eyes grew 
covertly watchful. 

Harwood laughed. 

44 Oh, I was speaking generally,” he said. 

As if he could deceive Beryl! 

44 If you meant Lorraine’s money,” she said, 44 I don’t 
see how you are going to get it.” 

44 I didn’t mean Lorraine’s. I was speaking generally, 
I tell you.” 

44 Not you, Justin. However, it isn’t worth words. 
The other business is risky, and I advise you to drop it.” 

44 Hare say. You never liked it.” 

44 Liked it?” she laughed. 44 As if I liked anything you 
do! But I wasn’t speaking of likes and dislikes; I meant 
danger. 4 The pitcher that goes often to the well comes 
back broken at last.’ ” 

44 Bah! I don’t believe in proverbs; and no one can sus- 
pect—” 

He stopped significantly. 

44 Unless you are taken red-handed.” 

44 I don’t mean to be.” 

44 So they all say. I only warn you.” 

4 4 If I am taken,” said Justin, 44 I’ll split.” 

44 1 know you will. Do you imagine I have any other 
reason, save one, for warning you?” 

44 No, I don’t. What is the other reason?” 

44 On account of the Rodens.” 

44 Bah! you owe them nothing. They turned round 
upon you as soon as you were under a cloud.” 

44 It was such a very thick cloud!” said Beryl, rising. 
44 People in society can’t associate with thieves and the 
queens of such salons as yours.” 

44 You’re forgiving!” with a sneer. 

44 No; only philosophical.” 

44 Your philosophy isn’t worth much,” said Harwood; 


214 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


“ for it only teaches you to bear the evils of the world, not 
to accept its benefits/’ 

“ Meaning — Lorraine?” 

“Yes; meaning Lorraine. Of course I stand in the 
way. Now, I’ll make a proposition — a handsome one, I 
take it.” 

“ Let me hear it,” said Beryl, indifferently. 

“This: Lorraine wants to marry you— good! If a 
thing’s worth having, it’s worth paying for— good again! 
I’ve told you I’m getting a bit tired of risk. Let Lor- 
raine pay me off with a good round sum— he can afford it, 
and he’d well-nigh beggar himself for you, I know— and 
I’ll levant and live honest ever afterward.” 

Beryl looked at the brazen-faced speaker, not in sur- 
prise — nothing would surprise her in Justin Harwood, ex- 
cept a spark of honesty, good feeling, or refinement — but 
with a kind of bitter amusement. 

“You are speaking seriously?” she said, at last. 

“ Never was more serious in my life.” 

“ And you think that, in the first place, I would pro- 
pose such a monstrous idea to any man; and that, in the 
second, I would trust you?” 

“ Trust me? Why the ” (elegant expletive) “ not, 
girl?” 

“Rather, why? You couldn’t keep honest for three 
months, Justin. The ruling passion is too strong in you. 
You can’t contradict me from experience, for you never 
tried.” 

“ I’d like a new experience,” said Harwood, with a coarse 
laugh. 

“ And you would soon weary of it. No; drop the sub- 
ject. My own name would disgrace a man, without the 
help of yours.” 

“As you please,” said Harwood, with a black look; 
“ but, all the same — ” 

He left the sentence unfinished; and Beryl, not seeming 
to notice this, quitted the room. 

But she did notice it, as she noticed everything; and 
just now she was especially suspicious of her step-father. 

“ I know what he is planning,” she said to herself 
when she was alone; “ but he shall never accomplish his 
purpose. He has had it in his mind ever since he knew 
Emilie Gresham was going to Silver Ash, and Vere was to 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


215 

be her guest. When he left London, a little while ago, 
nothing came of it. He was down at Strudmore, recon- 
noitering. Never mind,* I know how to use his tools, and 
I can be even with him. Haven’t I practiced the 4 art ’ — 
unknown to him— lest I should one day need it? I may 
need it now. Heaven knows!” 

She paced her boudoir slowly, still musing. 

44 If only I could get into the house! But that is impos- 
sible. How could I disguise past recognition — his recog- 
nition, if no one else’s? No; the only way is to watch Jus- 
tin closely, and follow him. He thinks I suspect nothing. 
He shall think so. Let him make this attempt, and, at 
whatever cost, I will prevent it!” 

CHAPTER XLII. 
emilie’s letter. 

Thinking the matter over, Emilie Gresham decided 
that perhaps it would be best for her not to call in Han- 
over Street; but why should Beryl not call on her? 

She wrote to the girl a loving, grateful letter, begging 
her to come. 

44 1 want,” said Emilie, 44 to thank you face to face for 
all you have done for me, though I can never thank you 
enough. Pray — pray, don’t refuse me!” 

But Beryl, though she sobbed passionately over that 
letter, did refuse. She had done nothing, she said, to 
merit thanks. She was grateful to Mrs. Gresham for 
asking her to call, but it was impossible. 

44 It would not be just to you that I should come. Your 
generosity, your imagined obligation to me, make you for- 
get that I no longer belong to your world, nor can ever 
belong to it again. But you can never fully know how 
precious to me is the thought that one good and noble 
woman judges me less harshly than, perhaps, from my sur- 
roundings, I deserve.” 

When Emilie, her eyes full of tears, gave that letter to 
Lorraine to read, he only said, as he returned it to her: 

44 1 knew she would answer you so.” 

44 And must I let it rest then, Vere?” 

44 For the present, I think so — yes.” 


m 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


Half an hour later he was in Beryl’s presence, holding 
her in his arms. He had come to bid her good-bye before 
going down to Silver Ash. 

4 4 And why did you write as you did to Emmie?” he 
said, softly, caressing the golden head that rested against 
him. 

The girl started. 

44 Did she show you the letter?” she asked. 

44 Yes. You did not mind, Beryl?” 

44 No, only that it pained you; but how else could I have 
answered her?” 

44 1 hardly know; you might have gone to her.” 

44 Would you have done so, in my place, Vere?” 

He had no reply for that; he strained her to his heart in 
silence. 

When he spoke again, it was of his impending departure. 

44 1 shall count the days, Beryl,” he said, 44 until I see 
you again. You will write to me, dearest, promise me!” 

44 Yes, Vere.” 

44 And may I write to you?” 

44 Ah, yes!” 

So at last they parted; and neither dreamed how differ- 
ent from anything they had contemplated their next meet- 
ing would be — neither dreamed that the shuttle had gone 
for the last time through the web of their lives. 

Would the thread so woven in finish a complete whole; 
or, tangle and breaking, ruin the web forever? 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

STUDIO SUNDAY. 

It happened this year that Studio Sunday and Palm 
Sunday were one and the same, and TJlric Hazlemere’s 
studio, among others, was thrown open, prominent among 
the attractions being the portrait of May Roden. That 
portrait was destined to be a lucky one for its painter. 

Beryl Carolan had received an invitation from Hazle- 
mere, and at first she hesitated about going. The Rodens 
were sure to be there; perhaps also Emilie Gresham and 
her husband; and in the small space of a studio it was im- 
possible to avoid meeting these people face to face. Might 
not the Rodens, at any rate, be o If ended with Hazlemere 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


217 


for asking her to come? Then a haughty, reckless spirit 
seized the girl. 

“ Why, should I not go?” she said to herself. “ I have 
done no wrong. There will be people there I know; I 
want to see the pictures. I shall not speak to the Rodens; 
and Mrs. Gresham, how will she treat me?” 

She dressed herself in her favorite plush— it was a kind 
of steel-blue this time; the graceful hat, plumed with 
cream and blue feathers — and drove down to West Ken- 
sington. 

The studio was already crowded with the usual gathering 
of dilettanti, press critics, fashionable people who talked 
art jargon without knowing anything about art, and genu- 
ine art-lovers; eyeglasses, spectacles, “ long hair and 
oddity,” and extraordinary costumes among the women, 
were in the ascendant; and the tongues were going fast 
and furious. 

The entrance of Beryl Carolan, who came alone, created 
an instant diversion. Everybody stared ; those who knew 
her personally pressed forward to speak to her; those who 
didn’t, and those who wouldn't know her, talked about 
her, and admired her beauty and her dress. 

Beryl had at once seen that the three people she did not 
wish to meet were in the room; Emilie standing before a 
landscape, and Enid and May sitting apart, talking with a 
celebrated painter and his eccentric wife. Hazlemere 
greeted her warmly. 

“ How good of you to come!” he said. “ I was so afraid 
you would be engaged, and there are three people here 
dying for introductions, to say nothing of my pleasure.” 

Beryl laughed. 

“ And the portrait?” she asked, archly, and in an under- 
tone. 

Hazlemere colored, but his eyes lighted up. 

“ Well, I am ashamed to repeat,” he said, “ the flatter- 
ing opinions I have heard; I don't mean from noodles, but 
from competent critics. I want your opinion so much; 
you haven’t seen it since it was completed.” 

“ My opinion, after all the competent critics?” 

“ I consider you one of them. No, I am not flattering — 
it isn't in my line.” 

“ I know you are not; but I must needs feel flattered by 
your thinking so much of my critical powers.” 


218 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


She moved onward toward the portrait; the three people 
who were dying for introductions, two of them painters, 
the third a musical celebrity, were all made happy, and 
Beryl reigned the unwilling but inevitable queen of an ad- 
miring circle. 

44 If 1 could only,” Emilie murmured to herself, “get 
close to her and say one word — even give her a look.” 

But this was not easy. Beryl was always surrounded, 
and though, if she had intended to speak apart to any one, 
she would certainly have done so, dismissing her train with- 
out more ado, she did not so choose; she had no intention 
of giving Emilie the desired opportunity. 

Everybody was talking of the portrait; those who under- 
stood led the van; the rest followed the bell-wether. When 
the critic of the 44 Weekly Review,” who wrote also for the 
44 Banner,” said it would be the best portrait in the 
Academy, it was manifestly safe to echo the remark, with- 
out stopping to inquire whether the critic had seen all the 
other portraits destined to smile, smirk, or frown on the 
walls of Burlington House. 

44 ’Tis really a picture. Miss Carolan,” said a painter 
who never did portraits, and therefore could speak with- 
out personal bias; 44 have you seen it yet?” 

4 4 1 am trying to see it,” she answered; 44 1 hear great 
things of it; the subject was inspiring.” 

44 Yes; Miss May Roden is very cliarming. Ah! if you 
would give Haz.lemere sittings. Miss Carolan; but I am 
afraid — ” 

44 That I shouldn’t be equal to the boredom of sitting 
for my portrait for about the twentieth time,” interrupted 
Beryl, gravely. 

44 That is not what I was going to say.” 

44 Eo; but it’s what I mean. Now, here is an opening.” 

She stood some minutes looking at the picture, and then 
turned to Hazlemere, who had approached. 

44 It is a portrait,” she said, 44 because it is a perfect 
likeness — not idealized — simply true. You seem to have 
caught the face in every mood, not only in one; but it is a 
picture really — I don’t think you have ever painted one so 
beautiful!” 

44 Thanks!” said the painter in a low tone, too deeply 
moved to say more. 

He knew the value of Beryl’s cultivated opinion, from 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


219 


an artistic point of view; but it touched him in other 
ways. A man can perhaps never be wholly indifferent 
to the praise of a beautiful woman, and to this woman 
Hazlemere had almost surrendered his peace. He had 
escaped in time; but such an experience leaves an after- 
glow in a man’s heart. Even the woman he has nearly, 
though not quite loved, can never be to him the same as 
all other women — there is a certain consecration about 
her — a reflection of “ the light that never was on land or 
sea.” 

So of all the praise he had heard that day. Beryl’s was 
the most prized — the most cherished by Ulric Hazlemere. 

Beryl understood him, and said no more; but after one 
more look at the portrait, one stifled sigh that the original 
could never be her friend again, turned away to another 
picture, and doing so, found herself face to face with 
Emilie Gresham. 

It was but a look from each to each — words were impos- 
sible — they were in a crowd — a whisper would have been 
overheard — but if ever a woman’s eyes said, From my 
soul I thank you!” Emmie’s eyes said it then; the blood 
rushed for a moment to Beryl’s pale cheek; her violet 
eyes drooped, her lips trembled; but she mastered herself, 
and passed on, her heart throbbing as if it would break — 
break with the longing to be able to lay her head on that 
other woman’s breast, and sob out there all the bitterness 
of her life. 

Can any man realize what it is to a woman — this exile 
from the society of the pure and good of her own sex- 
hard at times to bear for those whose own acts have put 
them under the ban; but oh! how cruel for the woman 
who has done no wrong — who suffers only because ap- 
pearances are against her. Upon Beryl Oarolan the 
unmerited punishment fell with special force, for she had 
not even become inured by long use to the life she led now. 
Only a few months ago she had been the darling of a 
society that now ignored her — the close friend of women 
who would now scarcely own they had ever known her; 
and yet, in heart and soul, in thought, word, and deed, 
she was unchanged — she was the same Beryl into whose ear 
Enid Roden had poured all her troubles — whom May ad- 
mired and loved; but the scene had revolved, and carried 
her round with it — suspicion clouded her name; her back- 


220 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


ground to-day was a gambling salon , no woman’s figures 
save her own on the stage; she had passed from Mayfair 
into Bohemia, and in Bohemia she must remain. 

1 Beryl did not remain long in the Melbury Road; she had 
other studios to visit, and in any case would have with- 
drawn within an hour, but a certain pride — the pride that 
had induced her to come— made her stay long enough to 
refute any impression that she felt on account of the 
Rodens. 

Enid breathed more freely when she had gone, and 
several other women were not sorry to be rid of the brill- 
iant presence that so entirely eclipsed their own, and 
caused the eyes and thoughts of usually faithful swains to 
wander sadly. 

Just before the Rodens were going, Hazlemere contrived 
to get May to himself for a minute or two. 

“ You don’t know how happy it makes me,” he said in a 
low voice, “ that it is your portrait which has brought me 
this success!” 

“ I am very — very glad of the success,” replied May, 
looking down and ignoring the first part of the sentence. 

“ Who should be, if you are not?” whispered Hazlemere. 

It wa3 a bold venture, and brought the rose-flush to 
May’s cheeks; but of course she had no answer for it — 
what answer could she have? 

She looked round for Enid and Emilie, but they were not 
to be seen. 

“You’re not angry with me?” said Hazlemere. 

“Angry? oh, no! We must be going now, Mr. Hazle- 
mere.” 

“ So soon?” 

“We have been here a long time.” 

“ It doesn’t seem so to me; and I have hardly spoken to 
you. Well, if it must be, good-bv r e.” 

May gave him her hand. She did not seem to mind that 
he held it nearly half a minute, or complaiu, even to her- 
self, that her rings- were ' crushed into her fingers. She 
bore the pain with martyr-like resignation. 

Nor did Hazlemere feel offended because she did not say 
good-bye in reply to his, and scarcely looked at him. On 
the contrary, he was highly gratified by conduct, which, 
under, ordinary circumstances, would have been ill-bred. 

Time had been, not so long ago, when Studio Sunday in 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


221 

Melbury Road did not find its way into the papers, or 
obtained a slight notice; but this time the press had a good 
deal to say about the portrait of Miss Roden, and other 
pictures too, though the portrait led; and in art circles 
there was a great deal of talk about IJlric Jdazlemere and 
his future. 

“ That fellow will be famous one of these days, Roden,” 
said a fellow M. P., alluding to the young painter. “ The 
portrait of your daughter May is a decided hit — haven’t 
seen such a charming work for a long time — no chalky 
work there — no smudging — and expression — pose — ex- 
quisite!” 

Benevolent M. P. ! though he did not know it. 

Mr. Roden was gratified through his family pride, for 
was it not his daughter whose portrait was thus lauded, 
and would certainly obtain a place on the line in the forth- 
coming Academy? And then, it looked as if he had be- 
friended the struggling artist, though, of course, he had 
done nothing of the kind. 

“I am so glad you like the picture,” he said. “ I 
always said Hazlemere had talent, and I gave him the com- 
mission, confident that he would fulfill my expectations.” 

His hearer happened to have heard who was the real 
dens ex machind' in this case; he also knew that Sydney 
Roden’s acquaintance with art was about on a par with his 
acquaintance with astronomy; therefore the M. P. laughed 
unto himself, but kept his own counsel, and privately 
called Roden a “ humbug,” though very likely he would 
have acted in the same way himself. 

When Hazlemere called the next day in Kensington 
Gore, Mr. Roden was polite and patronizing. 

Nothing succeeds like success. 


CHAPTER XLIY. 

AT SILVER ASH. 

It was after luncheon at Silver Ash, the Tuesday in 
Easter week. Mr. Harrington had arrived that morning 
to swell the party, which consisted, besides, of Vere Lor- 
raine, Lord Charles Welby, Malleson, Denman, Mrs. Ben- 
nett, Lila Campbell, and Marcia Dene; the former of the 
two unmarried ladies a debutante at last London season; 


222 SINNER OR VICTIM? 

the latter a handsome brunette of perhaps twenty-four or 
five. 

The guests were scattered about the house, for a light 
rain was falling which prevented out-door amusements; 
and Miss Dene had contrived to get hold of Lorraine, who 
was piloting her through the intricacies of a game of chess. 
She did not even know the moves, and was not very quick 
at learning them — perhaps because she was paying much 
more attention to the teacher than to the game, and she 
certainly flattered herself that she had made an 44 impres- 
sion;” whereas Lorraine in his heart thought the whole 
business a bore, and would have been quite as ready to 
teach chess to Lord Charles Welby as . to Marcia Dene; 
while he would have enjoyed a game with Mr. Harrington, 
who was a good player, better than either. Emilie, mean- 
while, looked on with secret amusement, knowing how 
matters really stood. 

44 1 shall never learn, you know,” said Miss Dene, 
archly, after she had for the sixth time moved a bishop 
like a rook, and, by way of compensation, bestowed the 
knight’s move on a pawn; 44 it’s so awfully difficult.” 

44 Not the moves, I think,” said Lorraine, smiling; 44 to 
become a good player is another thing. No, Miss Dene, 
the queen can’t jump over heads.” 

44 Can’t she? — why not? A good player — oh, I shall 
never be that! You are a first-rate player, are you not, 
Mr. Lorraine?” 

44 1 can’t lay claim to that distinction.” 

44 Oh, but I’m sure you are. There now, is that cor- 
rect?” placing a rook en prise to a pawn. 

44 Yes, if you want to lose a rook for nothing.” 

Marcia tittered, and declared again she should never 
learn, in which opinion Lorfaine heartily— though secretly 
— concurred. 

How he prayed for release from his martyrdom! It 
came in the form of his cousin, who had known Marcia 
Dene half her life, and stood on no ceremony with her. 

44 My dear Marcia,” said she, putting her hand on the 
girl’s shoulder, 44 you’re victimizing Vere, and you none 
the better for it. You’ve no head for chess, and Herbert 
and the others want Yere for billiards. Come with me to 
make some calls.” 

“Am I victimizing you, Mr. Lorraine?” asked Marcia, 


SIKHER OR VICTIM? 223 

looking up at him with that regard she called “under 
her eyes,” whatever that may mean. 

Emilie interrupted. 

“ Now, Marcia, what can a man say when you put him 
such a question? Run off and get your hat and cloak on; 
you’ll be fully half an hour.” 

Marcia rose reluctantly, and with a pout. 

“ I am sure it is very good of you, Mr. Lorraine,” she 
said, “ to have made a martyr of yourself for my benefit.” 

“ Nay, Miss Dene, I protest! It was my cousin who 
crowned me with the martyr’s crown.” 

“ And justly,” said Emmie, coolly. “ Don’t I know 
what you crack players must suffer teaching tyros? It’s 
as bad as sitting you down to hear a child of six play her 
scales.” 

Marcia stalked away in high dudgeon. The utter 
ignoring on Emilie’s part of the pleasure which a man is 
supposed to have in playing coach to a pretty girl mortified 
Miss Dene sorely; but so soon as she was out of sight Lor- 
raine raised his eyes to his cousin, and both laughed. 

“ Emmie,” said the former, “ you’re a darling!” 

“lam not,” replied she. “ Poor Marcia, I did assault 
her amour propre rather roughly; but she is too ridiculous — 
making a dead set at you in that style. Here comes Her- 
bert to take you off to the billiard-room. ” 

“ I wish you were coming too,” said Lorraine, as he rose. 

“ Do you, Yere, when you’ll have bonny Lila Campbell 
to flirt with?” 

“ You know I would rather have you.” 

“ You’re a jewel, Yere!” 

She half sighed as she turned away. Was such a man as 
this to have his life utterly spoiled? 

~ A little later in the afternoon Lorraine, quitting the 
billiard-room, came across Mr. Harrington, and by a 
mutual instinct they turned into the picture-gallery hard 
by, where they paced up and down, talking of many 
things — politics, music, art, classics. 

Presently there was a pause in the conversation, and the 
priest broke it by a question: 

“ By the way,” he said, “ do you mind my asking you 
something?” 

“Why should I? I always feel safe with you, Mr. Har- 
rington.” 


m 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ Thank you. May I ask, then, if you have taken, or 
mean to take, any steps toward finding your wife?” 

A shiver went through Lorraine at the very word. His 
wife! It meant to him only a horrible bondage. 

“ I hardly know,’’ he answered, slowly, “ what I shall 
do in the future. I have done nothing as yet. Of course 
if I took any steps it would be with a view to getting the 
marriage set aside, and yet — ” 

“ And yet,” repeated Mr. Harrington, covertly watch- 
ing the handsome face. 

Lorraine’s eyes were bent to the floor. A slight flush 
crossed his cheek- 

“ Well,” he said, “ it may sound sentimental, but it 
would seem ungenerous to humiliate that poor child. She 
did what she did to save my life. She has acted nobly 
since. A mere sordid adventuress would have claimed me 
long ago.” 

“ I honor you,” said the priest, “ for what you call sen- 
timental.” 

“Still,” Lorraine went on, “ might not she be glad of 
release? Even if — if she had cared for me — that is ten 
years ago; she was a child then, she is a woman now, and 
her present position is wholly anomalous; she is neither 
wife nor widow.” 

“ While you,” said the priest, “ if you were free, what 
then?” 

“You know,” said Lorraine, through his teeth, “ that 1 
would accept Beryl’s fiat as eternal.” 

He paused, and stood still near one of the long windows. 

“ If the woman,” he said, after a pause, “ who calls 
herself my wife is willing to abjure her rights, she would 
hardly oppose me in trying to obtain a decree of nullity. 
I will seek her, and if 1 find her I will do for her what I 
can — settle a handsome income upon her — so long as I can 
be free.” 

“ Do you mean if you fail in obtaining the decree?” 

“ No,” returned Lorraine, gloomily; “ what good? 
Beryl would not consent to that. The law makes Nina my 
wife; morally, Bervl would be my wife, but legally, no.” 

“ Yet if Beryl consented to it?” asked the priest. 

Lorraine was silent, struggling with himself. 

“ Heaven help me!” he said, at length, “ if I were 
tempted; but I could not do her a wrong.” 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


22 5 


“ I don’t think you could, Lorraine,” said the priest, 
gently. 

“ Ah! don’t think better of me than I deserve. No 
man could be trusted in the face of such temptation. But 
Beryl would save me. She could not do wrong. Yes, I 
will, I must seek this girl. Your lips are sealed; but I 
can not endure this bondage. If I can not be free of it — ” 

He stopped. 

“ If you can not be free of it?” said Mr. Harrington. 

“ Don’t ask me; don’t, for pity’s sake!” said Lorraine, 
hoarsely. “I can’t think of the future — I dare not — it 
maddens me! Come, let us talk of something else.” 

And the priest said in his heart: 

“ How will it end? How can it end?” 


CHAPTER XLY. 

LAYING THE TRAIN. 

“Beryl, my girl,” said Justin Harwood, one morning 
after his breakfast — hers was over long ago — “ I want to 
have a talk with you.” 

“Yes,” she said, looking up from some flowers she was 
arranging. 

“ Well, I’m getting sick of this wretched country — I 
shall go abroad again.” 

“ That’s a very sudden idea,” returned Beryl, outwardly 
unmoved. “ Go abroad, where?” 

“ To America — perhaps — Frisco, or New York; or what 
do you say to Buenos Ayres?” 

“ You travel a few thousand miles in two seconds,” said 
the girl, coolly. “ I want to know why we must leave 
England at alb Have you any news of danger?” 

“ Not I. The trap isn’t baited yet that’ll catch me,” 
said he, laughing. “ Well, look here, it’s partly your 
fault.” 

“ Mv faulL-how?” 

“ I’ll speak plainly. Beryl. When I came over here I’d 
an idea that matters might be set straight. You know 
what I mean, and of course, as I told you the other day, 
it would have been a precious good thing for me. Instead 
of that, you hold your hand in that affair, and actually 
drive away custom from this place. I’d have made a pile 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


226 

out of Gresham but for yon, and you keep others from 
play — you can’t deny it.” 

“ I don’t wish to deny it,” said Beryl, placing a nar- 
cissus to best advantage, and proceeding to select a piece 
of maiden-hair fern. 

“ Very well, I’ve got to live; at any rate, I mean to; so 
as matters are not especially brilliant here, and I’m dead j 
sick of the infernal old country, I shall levant.” 

“ When?” 

“ Oh! in a fortnight or so.” 

“We will think about it,” said Beryl. 

“ Think about it? Go to thunder, girl— we’ll do it!” 

Beryl shrugged her shoulders, and went on with her 
flowers. 

Harwood took up a newspaper, and in a few minutes 
Beryl’s flower- vase was filled, and she carried it to its 
place. 

“ When did this intention come into your head?” she 
asked then. 

“ Some time ago, when I found you meant to stick to 
your highfalutin notions.” 

“ A fortnight is rather quick time from now to start for 
New York or Buenos Ayres,” remarked Beryl. 

“ What then? Your lover ” — with a sneer — “ will be 
back in town to say good-bye to you.” 

“ He will be up "in two or three days.” 

“I know — ” the slightest possible pause; then; “He 
wouldn’t be able to spare the time for a long visit.” 

“ Moreover, Easter visits never are very long,” added 
Beryl, throwing herself into a fauteuil near the open win- 
dow. 

But Harwood had fallen into the trap laid for him. The 
“ I know ” had made quite certain what Beryl had more 
than suspected. The pause, slight though it was, could 
not escape senses that nothing escaped, and only, with the 
explanation, made matters worse for J ustin. 

There was no connection between an assertion of positive 
knowledge and a general statement; and how did Har- 
wood “ know ” when Vere Lorraine would return to town? 
No one had told him; if he had been told he would have 
been sure to give the name of his informant; besides, the 
attempt to discount his hasty assertion betrayed conscious 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


22 7 


guilt; it was just the mistake of being “ too clever by. 
half.” 

“ How did he know it?” Beryl mused, while apparently 
reading some letters, “ and why did he take the trouble 
to know it. Easily answered. How foolish Justin is to 
think that at this date he can hoodwink me; he couldn’t 
when I was a child of fourteen. He means to leave Eng- 
land because he has made up his mind for a grand coup, 
more risky than any hp has yet perpetrated, and he will 
time his flight soon enough for safety, and not so soon as 
to look like flight, and so raise possible suspicion; and that 
coup is to be at Silver Ash. 

“ He has found out all he needs to know; the plan of 
the house, who are the guests, and how long they are to 
stay. He knows that Emilie Gresham and the other ladies 
have jewels with them — Miss Dene, I know, has splendid 
jewels. He shall not do this thing. Did I not warn him? 
Now, happen what may, I will; frustrate him. I dare not 
warn them, for his sake. Justin, in his rage, would 
betray all; but, as Heaven shall help me, there shall be no 
robbery at Silver Ash. 

44 If only I could get the plan of the house! But how 
could I disguise so as to escape possible, even probable, 
recognition? My only chance is to watch him, and follow 
him, come worse to worse.” She paused in her train of 
thought, and the next words were grimly significant: “I 
can use a derringer as well as he can!” 

And after? To that Beryl Carolan could not look. 
Whatever happened, she had no intention of going to either 
New York or Buenos Ayres, or anywhere else— with Jus- 
tin Harwood. 

She felt that a climax in her life was approaching, but 
what the result might be she could not foretell. Only 
this — that she would strive to the uttermost to keep her 
vow. 

That morning a letter came to her from Yere Lorraine. 
In a few days — he wrote — he should see her again. He 
was counting the hours, the minutes. 

Was not she also? And yet she dreaded that meeting. 

“ Would it be a sin,” she said, inwardly, “ to fly- 
deceiving him for his own sake — and hide myself from 
him? But I can not now— he is in danger, and he will 
need me!” 


228 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


CHAPTER XLYI. 

TROUBLE IN KENSINGTON GORE. 

The Rodens did not leave town this Easter. Mr. Roden 
had an attack of gout, which of course put all locomotion 
on his part out of the question; and so his wife and the 
girls remained at Kensington Gore. 

May was very sorry for her father, but she had no fanatic 
desire to go down to Rodenhurst for the Easter recess this 
year. 

Whether she hacl'lost her taste for primroses and the 
Surrey hills, or made the discovery that Kensington Gar- 
dens had put on a new robe of beauty, and supplied all that 
was needful in the way of rurality, it would, perhaps, be 
too curious to inquire. Certain it is that she was entirely 
reconciled to the enforced stay in London. Art was a 
more than sufficient compensation for the loss of Nature. 

As for Enid, all places were alike to her. The girl had 
fallen into a kind of despondency, none the less difficult to 
deal with for the occasional flashes of extravagant spirits 
that outwardly displaced it, but, in reality, gave the girl 
no relief. 

Tortured by jealousy, still persuaded that she had been 
unjustly treated', Enid’s heart fed on itself. If she could 
have looked her trouble in the face, acknowledged her own 
mistake, and, however humiliated by the admission of 
having given love unsought, had set about bravely con- 
quering a passion not returned, earth and sky would have 
worn different faces for her. 

But this was precisely what Enid could not do; to act so 
would be to change her nature; her affections were 
strong, but her will weak. Her character was clouded by 
a veil of sentimentalism, which made her rather hug sor- 
row than try to put it from her; she positively reveled in 
“ the luxury of woe.” She enjoyed being wronged, 
though she would not have owned it for the world. Pride 
and jealousy, as well as sentiment, induced her to maintain 
the fiction that, if Beryl Carolan had not crossed her path, 
Vere Lorraine’s heart would have been given to her; and 
one or two attempts on May’s part to open her sister’s eyes 
to the true state of the case met with a passionate outburst 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


m 


of tears and reproaches against May herself, which the 
younger girl naturally resented, and withdrew herself, de- 
ciding that Enid must fret out her trouble alone. 

But it looked as if the process might fret out Enid's 1 
health; she grew thin, pale, and languid; her temper was 
variable — sometimes passively amiable; at others so 
irritable that it required no small stock of forbearance to 
endure it. For three or four days she would not go out at 
all; then she would go out continually — shopping in the 
morning; to some at-home concert or matinee in the after- 
noon or a drive in the park, winding up with a dance or a 
theater in the evening, and returning home thoroughly 
wearied out, to sleep heavily and late the following morn- 
ing. 

“ If only Mr. Harrington were in town," cried Mrs. 
Roden, one day, to her younger daughter, “ I would get 
him to see Enid. She is killing herself. She will not 
even see a physician; and, indeed, no physician could do 
her any good. It is folly to go on like this. Have you 
talked to her, May?" 

“Yes, mamma; and she is only angry with me. You 
know I told you all along Mr. Lorraine did not care for 
her — did not really show her any special attention. Emmie 
says the same, and she ought to be able to know when a 
man is taken with a girl. Besides, if Lorraine was a 
trifler, so much the less reason for breaking one's heart 
about him." 

“Yes; but if it was Beryl who drew him away — " 

“Mamma," cried May, “forgive me; but it was not 
Beryl — I mean, I am sure Beryl never did anything to 
draw him away! Besides, he was not the least bit in love 
with Enid. You wouldn't have it, but he wasn't in 
fault." 

“ Not consciously, perhaps," said Mrs. Roden, partially, 
but not entirely, striking her colors; “ but I think a man 
like Mr. Lorraine ought to be more cautious— it is so easy 
for him to produce a deeper impression than he intends." 

“ He hasn't enough vanity— that's it," said May; “ and 
Enid is so impressionable— so fond of hero-worship." 

Mrs. Roden sighed. 

“ I must take her away for a change when your father 
is well," she said. “I can not have her go on like this. 


230 


SINKER OR TICTIM? 


For her own sake she must go away; people will be talk- 
ing — saying she is dying for Vere Lorraine’s sake.” 

“ It is that fear,” returned May, “ that makes her 
pluck up as she does now and then; but she always suffers 
for it afterward.” 

Only that very day Enid had declared she should go to 
the theater that evening. A box was taken, and the two 
sisters went with a married friend and Hazlemere, who 
was transported to the seventh heaven — not by the play, 
which he scarcely looked at, but because he was by May’s 
side. 

And Enid was beginning to believe she was enjoying her- 
self, when a man and a woman entered the stalls. The 
man — it mattered nothing who he was; the woman was 
Beryl Carolan — Beryl, whose dazzling beauty seemed to 
mock her unsuccessful rival — and from that moment Enid 
saw only the face and form she almost hated. 

But the violet eyes were never raised to the box where 
the Boden girls sat, though Beryl perfectly well knew they 
were there, and was sorry she had come to-night, knowing 
Enid must be pained; and Mrs. Granger, unconscious of 
the stabs she was dealing, kept talking about Beryl till 
Enid could have cried out in her passionate anger, but was 
compelled to endure in silence. So when she got home, 
she had declared the play stupid and the acting bad; and 
May was hardly in a position to contradict her, since she, 
for different reasons, had herself paid but scant attention 
to the stage. 

As for May, how could she help being happy? Had not 
Ulric Hazlemere as good as. told her he loved her before 
to-night? And to-night, when he was leading her out to 
the carriage, he bent down and whispered: “ Thank you 
so much. May, for to-night’s happiness.” “ May!” The 
name came out so naturally, it seemed such a matter of 
course that somehow May did not even start; but she 
colored a soft rose tint over her whole face, and just vent- 
ured a shy upward glance, to meet a look that made her 
eyes discover something interesting to study in the bottom 
furbelows of the dresses trailing before her. 

She lay down to rest with a sunny smile on her lips, 
while poor Enid’s pillow was wet with unavailing tears, 
and Beryl, fully dressed, was pacing slowly and noiselessly 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


231 

up and down her luxurious chamber, listening, listening, 
with every nerve on the alert. Listening for what? 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

TWO TRAVELERS TO BAMPTON. 

It was two o'clock in the morning, and quite dark, save 
for the light, uncertain and glimmering, of the street 
lamps. A man had just come out of one of the houses in 
Hanover Street, but no one had seen him. There was not 
a human creature within sight or sound; all the houses 
were closed up; and had curious eyes peeped through a 
blind, they could have discerned nothing of the man's 
figure more than that it was a man; whether gentle or 
simple, well-dressed or ill-dressed, impossible to say. 

Had inspection been possible, it would have been seen 
that he was old, with gray hair and a clean-shaved face 
rough in feature and somewhat lowering in expression. 
His clothes were shabby and slovenly — a rusty frock-coat 
of somewhat antiquated make, ditto trousers, a far from 
clean collar, and a much-worn black silk tie — in short, the 
general get-up of a workman reduced for a long time past 
to take his “ Sunday best " into common wear, with the 
result of a general seedy and woe-begone appearance. 

He certainly seemed to be more in his element outside a 
house in Hanover Street than inside. Que diable allait il 
faire dans cette galere ? He did not look like a burglar; 
but in these days of rose-water villains and murderers with 
the outward semblance of Raphael ic saints, there is no 
judging by externals. 

The man paused a moment or two, looking about him; 
then he shuffled off, with the slouching gait and dragging 
step of the British workman out of work. 

.You might have pitied him had you seen him, thinking 
him some poor fellow who had, maybe, walked the streets 
all night; but there were not many people about to notice 
him, and if there had been, the probability is no one would 
have given him a second look. 

At five o'clock this same man walked into the Midland 
station at St. Pan eras and took a third-class ticket for 
Bampton, a small market town down the line. He en- 
tered a crowded compartment, sat down, drew out his pipe. 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


232 

and began to smoke and talk with the men about him. 
Trade was bad? Yes, that it was. He'd been promised a 
job down at Bampton — caretaker, that was all; but it was 
better than starving; he’d 'ad enuff o' that 'ere. He’d 
been bred a bricklayer, but had never done no good at that 
trade, and so on; and by and by he went off to sleep — that 
was when one or two of the men, bricklayers also, were 
asking questions. Some people are very reticent about 
their trade. 

Yet, when the “bricklayer" reached Bampton, he 
went and had some breakfast at an inn, and then retired 
to a bedroom he had hired, and slept for some hours the 
“ sleep of the just." He seemed in no hurry to look up 
his caretaker’s job; and, indeed, he told the inn-keeper 
that he was “ on the tramp," looking for a job at his own 
trade; and when he lay down, he said to himself: 

“ If to-night is only as dark as last night — that’s all I 
want!" which seemed a singular aspiration for a workman 
on the tramp after a job. 

When this man took his ticket for Bampton, he did not 
notice among the crowd a woman, tall and slight, but car- 
rying herself with a sort ot slouching gait, who was close 
by him. She was quite a poor woman, though tolerably 
neat. A large white apron almost covered her cotton 
dress; in lieu of a bonnet, a shawl was on her head, and 
enveloped the greater part of her person; it was drawn so 
close round her face that the face itself was scarcely visible; 
moreover, she held her head down, and seemed dejected 
in manner. But there was nothing about her to observe. 

When the bricklayer was gone, she also took a third- 
class ticket for Bampton, asking for it in a low voice, and 
with the strongest Irish brogue. She took her place in the 
next compartment to the “bricklayer," but went into a 
corner, and spoke to no one. 

At Bampton she kept the bricklayer in sight, and saw 
him enter the Goat and Compasses, but she herself crossed 
the road to a very humble hostelry, and there she had a cup 
of coffee and some biscuits, so seating herself as she took 
her coffee that she could command the inn over the way. 

“ Come from Lunnon?" asked the landlady, who was 
fat and good-natured, as landladies generally are. 

“ Yes, ma’am," with a half courtesy; “ but 1 was born 
in Cork, an' me mother's a Limerick woman, an' I’m 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 233 

come to see my brother, who’s workin’ yonder, an’ maybe 
I’ll get a lift on the road, for it’s moighty tired I am,”" 

# And a long, rambling story followed, all in Milesian, so 
rich and full that the landlady couldn’t make out a word 
of it, and had great difficulty by and by in -comprehending 
that the Irish girl wanted a rest, and could she have a 
room for a bit — she’d pay fort. Oh, she’d pay! and out 
came some money; not a great deal, but more than enough 
to satisfy the landlady’s charge. 

“ It must be a front room,” stipulated the damsel from 
Cork; “ ’tis more loively loike.” 

“ I shouldn’t think that would matter, if you want to 
go to sleep,” said the landlady. “ However, here’s a front 
room;” and Miss Paddy was ushered into a small apart- 
ment and left to herself. 

The first thing she did was to lock the door; the next, 
to fling off the shawl from her head, displaying the red- 
gold locks and beautiful features of Beryl Carolan! 

“I am not an actress for nothing,” she muttered. 
“ The task has been comparatively easy so far. The most 
difficult part is vet to come. ” 

She did not lie down; she went straight to the window, 
and seating herself so that she was invisible from the out- 
side, watched the Goat and Compasses — watched un- 
fiaggingly. 

She had wine and biscuits with her, and with these she 
refreshed herself when needful, but never relaxed her 
watch. 

Once the chamber-maid knocked at the door, and then 
she answered, sleepily, that she was “ all roight, and 
moighty tired,” and the chamber-maid departed satisfied. 

So through all the afternoon until the evening came; 
and then, just as the dusk was falling, a man’s figure ap- 
peared on the threshold of the Goat and Compasses. 

Beryl rose, threw the shawl over her head again, and was 
down in the bar in less than a minute. 

The man was just going— bidding “good-evening” to 
some men within. 

The “ Irish girl ” had already paid her reckoning; she 
now bid the landlady a “ good-avening, an’ good luck to 
ye, ma’am,” and quitted the inn. 

The “bricklayer” was going on before her along the 
High Street. She followed, always keeping a distance 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


between them— followed through a straggling suburb out 
into the country. She knew his sight was not so keen and 
far-reaching as hers; he would not see her in the deepening 
gloom at a distance which did not prevent her seeing him 
quite clearly enough to keep him well in view. 

So into the dark road, between high hedges, she followed, 
on to a stretch of common-land, along another road, 
through half a dozen fields — where she kept close under 
the hedges — and at last a few glimmering lights showed 
that a village was near. 

It was the village of Strudmore, and a mile beyond 
Strudmore was Silver Ash. 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

IN THE SHRUBBERY. 

Well Beryl knew that no attempt to enter Silver Ash 
would be made until the household had retired to rest, and 
operations could, therefore, be conducted with safety. 

e( But,” mused the girl, “ does Harwood already know 
of a vulnerable point, or is he, to some extent, trusting to 
chance to find one? I must precede him now, and find 
out from what point he is likely to approach the house.” 

She followed the seeming laborer until she saw him 
enter a small inn in the village of Strudmore, then she 
walked on and continued her way to Silver Ash. 

The house was surrounded by large, park-like grounds, 
which extended to within a few hundred yards of the build- 
ing, the lawn and flower gardens occupying the remaining 
space. 

On the south side was a terrace upon which the windows 
of the drawing-rooin and one or two other rooms opened; 
immediately opposite the west front was a thick shrubbery; 
on the eastern side were the stables. 

It was pitch dark — a night with neither moon nor 
stars — when Beryl, agile and active, climbed the railings 
of the park and proceeded toward the house. Every now 
and then she paused, listening, but there was not a sound 
save the low sighing of the breeze among the branches, 
and the soft rustle of her dress against the long grass or 
bracken. 

She soon came in sight of the house opposite the south- 
ern front. There were lights shining from the drawing- 


SINNER, OR VICTIM? 


room windows, and faint sounds of music reached Beryl's 
ears as she stood out there in the darkness. 

She clasped her hands over her heart. 

“ Do you dream, Vere,” she whispered, “how close I 
am to you? Does any shadow of your own peril cross you? 
Ay, he will kill you if he can; he hates you, and he hates 
me; but I will save you! And then — then for your sake 
we must park. I must leave you!” 

She stood still a moment, covering her face, then, mas- 
tering herself, she began cautiously to take a survey of the 
house, drawing nearer and walking round it. With the 
exception of the terrace windows, it was not a very ac- 
cessible house. So far, so good. The girl came presently 
round to the west front. 

All the windows here were dark; the principal one was 
a large three-light window, the center opening in casement 
fashion, and about fifteen feet from the ground. 

“ That is the window Justin will attempt,” Beryl de- 
cided, “ and it is the best approach to the house through 
the shrubbery. There I will hide myself until he comes.” 

A terrible vigil; but Beryl was armed for it by the 
strongest motive the human heart can know, and she was 
ready for any emergency. The little pistol, on half cock, 
was ready to her hand. Let the worst come, Justin Har- 
wood's life would weigh nothing in the balance against 
Vere Lorraine's, or indeed the life of any one in that house. 

It was now nearly ten o’clock. Beryl must wait until past 
midnight. She withdrew into the shrubbery, but remained 
where the large window was in full view. 

Eleven o’clock, and no lights in any of the west-front 
windows. The servants would be retiring. Clearly, then, 
none of them slept on this side of the house. Half past 
eleven, and still darkness. Even guests in the country 
keep tolerably early hours, but no lights appeared, so no 
guest-chambers looked over the shrubbery. 

“Without doubt,” said Beryl to herself, “Justin has 
fixed on that window. He has, I know, made his plant, 
and has ascertained that the west side of the house is unin- 
habited.” 

Twelve o’clock, and still no sign of Justin’s approach. 
The faintest sound would have reached Beryl’s acute ears, 
and every nerve was listening. 

Suddenly a light flashed into her eyes. It was from the 


236 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


large window opposite. Some one had lighted a lam^ 
that hung from the center of the ceiling. The window 
was unveiled, and the casement a little open, and Beryl 
could see the interior of the apartment. It was the 
library; but who was its occupant? I 

A thrill of terror went through her as she thought of the 
man most likely to be a late reader. Another moment and 
a figure came into view. The light of the lamp fell Tull 
upon Vere Lorraine’s handsome features! 

The girl held her breath. Could she warn him? Was 
there time? No! Even in that second she heard a rustle, 
the sound of a stealthy footstep. She crouched back 
behind a tree; the footstep drew nearer — nearer, halting 
now and then, as the thief paused to listen, then coming 
on again. Beryl’s hand was on the butt of her pistol. She 
scarcely breathed. 

The step was close to her now — she heard the man’s 
breathing — she saw his stalwart figure; she could have put 
out her hand and touched him. He stopped, looking 
toward the window, and chuckled softly. 

“ So, Vere Lorraine!” he muttered, “ you walk into the 
trap and leave the window open for me.” 

A sharp click. The ruffian was putting his pistol on 
full cock. 

Lorraine now approached the window, and drew the 
curtain across it, but left the casement open; and again 
Justin Harwood chuckled; but now he moved forward, 
stealthily skirting the shrubbery, and passing the win- 
dow by. 

Still Beryl watched and listened. She had flung off the 
shawl, which would hamper her movements, and was 
ready for action. Three minutes— five; and then the foot- 
steps again, and she saw Harwood approaching, carrying a 
long ladder. He had evidently known where to find it. 

Not moving, Beryl watched him approach the house, 
and as he neared it she followed, creeping behind some tall 
shrubs which formed outstragglings of the shrubbery. 
Gently, noiselessly Harwood placed the ladder against the 
wall; it just reached the window. In that second Beryl 
violently shook the bush behind which she crouched. Har- 
wood, his foot on the lowest rung of the ladder, started 
and paused, hearing the sound, but not tracing precisely 
whence it came. J ust that pause, and then he crouched 


SIGNER OR VICTIM? 


237 


down suddenly, and passed, swift and silent as a ghost, 
into the shelter of the shrubbery again. 

Now was Beryl's opportunity; her chance depended on 
a, moment, though the dense darkness favored her. 
Quick as lightning, but as noiseless, she emerged from her 
hiding-place, was on the ladder— -up it— one foot on the 
window-sill, the other pushed the ladder down, and as it 
fell with a crash, the girl pushed aside the curtains and 
sprung into the room. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

THE ROSE DIAMOND. 

“ Great Heaven — Beryl !” 

Well might Lorraine be startled at her sudden appear- 
ance at this hour, in a strange and humble guise, with eyes 
wild, and face all quivering with excitement; but as he 
flung his arms round her, the girl struggled to be free. 

“ No — no!” she gasped; “there is danger still. Shut 
the window — the shutters — quick, quick!” 

She seemed half beside herself. Lorraine obeyed her 
without a word, shut the casement and the heavy shutters, 
she standing by, trembling from head to foot; then he 
turned to her, and with a passionate sob she threw herself 
on his breast. 

Perhaps in these moments some suspicion of the hideous 
truth came to Vere Lorraine; but his first task was to 
soothe and calm her, who must have risked her life for his. 
He held her tq his breast; he kissed her lips, her brow, 
her hair; he whispered a thousand words of loving endear- 
ment. What must not Beryl, so strong, so self-controlled, 
have gone through to break down like this! 

By and by she grew calmer, and whispered, falteringlv: 

“ Vere, forgive me! They have been hours of torture. 
I shall be able to tell you now. It has been cruel suspense 
for you; but I could not speak. Yes, hold me close to 
your heart, Vere,” kneeling at his feet and clinging to 
him in a kind of terror still. 

“ My own love! there is no more danger.” 

She drew the pistol suddenly from its hiding-place and 
laid it down. 

“ Beryl!” said Lorraine, under his breath. 

“ I might have need of that, Vere. I would have kill- 


238 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


edhim if need be!” with a look Harwood had seen more 
than once, but Lorraine never. He looked steadily into 
her eyes. 

“ Killed who?” he said; “ Justin Harwood?” 

“Yes, Justin Harwood.” 

“ He was here to-night?” 

“ He came to rob this house, as he robbed Rodenhurst.’ 

Somehow, as it often happens, the actual revelation of 
the truth, when it came, hardly startled Lorraine. Is ft 
that in the human mind suspicion may exist unsuspected, 
as things and persons lie perdu in the memory, and are 
brought out in dreams? Certainly, Lorraine had not, 
until Beryl came to him to-night, connected Harwood’s 
name with the robbery at Rodenhurst; and yet he felt as 
if some idea of older date than any that flashed into his 
mind in this hour met its consummation in Beryl’s last 
words. 

“ Harwood’s lameness, then,” he said, slowly, “ was 
feigned, to arrest suspicion? It was he who stole Emilie 
Gresham’s jewels?” 

“Yes; I warned him then. He planned the robbery 
here to-night, as a last effort before he left England. He 
came down days ago and found out ail about the house and 
the people in it. I knew he did, and watched him from 
that time. He left London this morning, disguised as a 
workman. I followed him to Bampton; from Bampton I 
tracked him to Strudinore; then I came on here; and for 
nearly three hours I watched and waited in that shrubbery. 
I saw you come into this room, Vere— ■” 

With almost a sob the man bowed his head on hers. 

“ My darling — oh, my darling!” 

“ It is all over now,” the girl whispered, tremulously. 

“ Dearest, forgive me— go on!” 

She told him how she had seen the ladder placed, and 
then had startled the would-be robber, and he had fled. 

And then, for a long time Lorraine could only hold her 
to him, in a very agony, at the terrible knowledge of all 
she had suffered and gone through. 

“My soul — my own love!” he said at last, when he 
could command his voice, “ surely the time has come 
when you must tell me the whole truth — tell me for what 
motive you lived a life of torture — bore the burden of a 
crime you had not committed — suffered this accursed 


SIXXER OR VICTIM? 


239 


villain to drag you from your rightful place and over- 
shadow your fair name/’ 

But Beryl trembled and was silent. 

Lorraine bent over her. 

“ Beryl, do you think I will let even this come between 
is?” 

The girl started back from his arms, and as she did so 
seme thing bright sprung from the bosom of her dress — a 
ray of light shot up in Lorraine’s eyes. 

With a sudden cry of terror Beryl’s hand closed over 
what in that instant Lorraine had seen to be a ring; but 
her lover’s hand grasped hers. He went livid to the very 
lips. 

, 44 Let me see that ring,” he said, hoarsely. 

k 4 No, no! Yere, it is my own — you don’t doubt me?” 

44 Doubt you?” But he did not relax his grasp. 44 But 
I must see that ring!” 

44 You can not know it!” Beryl gasped, trying to free 
her hand, trying to rise; but Lorraine’s strong arm held 
her close, his hand kept hers prisoner. 

44 Beryl,” he said, 44 don’t compel me to use force.” 

44 You can not do that!” said the girl, desperately. 
44 You can not be cruel to me!” 

He did not move, but looked steadily into the blue eyes 
that met his with such anguish of appeal. 

44 For your own sake!” she whispered, hoarsely. 

44 Give me that ring, Beryl, or, by Heaven, I will make 
you!” 

She had fought hand to hand, and foot to foot, and de- 
feat had come at last. 

She opened her hand, and, shrinking, cowering down, 
let him take the ring — the ring she kissed with bitter weep- 
ing every night and morning, and wore always next her 
heart — his mother’s ring, with the rose diamond and her 
initials and the Lorraine crest. 

It fell from his hand, as, with a passionate cry, he 
locked the quivering form to his breast. 

44 Nina, Nina — my wife /” 

Oh, blind, blind, that he had not dreamed of this before! 
For him she had borne all the shame and misery and 
humiliation — for him she would have borne all to the last. 

He saw all now— all — and in very delirium of joy he 
held his young wife to his heart, his lips on hers. 


240 


SINGER OR VICTIM? 


And she, if she had had the physical strength to resist 
him — how could she shrink from him yet — how do aughn 
but cling about his neck, knowing only that they lovecf 
each other, and that she was his and he was hers? 

“ Mine — mine!’’ Lorraine whispered, when at last hi 
could speak. “ Oh, my soul, how can I repay you for all 
the years of anguish endured for my sake? My wife — ny 
precious wife! Thank Heaven — oh! thank Heaven! that 
marriage was no mockery! Now I can claim you before 
the whole world for my own, and that claim you can nf)t 
resist!” 

“ Vere!” 

With almost convulsive strength she tried to free herself, 
but he had her close. 

“ What,” he said, “ do you strive still? My darling, 
you must yield now — the power is mine, and I will use it. 
All the world shall know that Beryl Carolan is my wife, 
and that she is innocent of crime. Lift up your face to 
mine, my heart! Give me the name that is mine — that 
makes me yours indeed!” 

Slowly Beryl raised her head from his breast, and their 
eyes met. 

She drew his face down to hers, and laid her quivering 
lips to his, and the word that gave him all he claimed was 
scarcely breathed : 

“ My husband!” 


CHAPTER L. 

“she is my wife!” 

How long the silence was neither knew; they had no 
count of time. It was Lorraine who spoke first. 

“ Tell me, Beryl, about the past — that marriage which 
I thought a cruel barrier parting you from me? — and it 
was the golden chain that bound you to me. But first — - 
dearest, did you love me then?” 

The crimson swept over the girl’s cheek and brow as she 
hid her face on her husband’s bosom. 

“Yes,” she whispered; “ I loved you. That was why 
I came to you to defend me. I tried to fight against the 
longing to see you — the sweet hope of being saved by 
you— but my heart conquered.” 

“ Thank Heaven!” Lorraine said, under his breath. 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 241 

“Oh, Beryl! you will not say now 4 better we had never 
met again?’ ” 

44 No!” she said, passionately — 44 no — I can not say it!” 

She went on presently to tell him how he had been 
brought wounded to the hut at Barra Creek, and how she 
had nursed him, sending for Mr. Harrington, who was 
chaplain at the next settlement; and then Harwood — who 
called himself Johnson then — thought it would be a fine 
thing for 4 4 Nina ” to marry the rich gentleman, and she * 
could only save the life now so precious to her by consent- 
ing, but vowed she would never claim the husband upon 
whom she had been forced. She and Mr. Harrington 
together contrived his escape, and the priest had faithfully 
kept to her his promise of secrecy. 

44 And, Vere,” Beryl went on, 44 your wife will not, in 
birth at least, disgrace you. Carolan, you know, is only 
an assumed name. My father was of gentle blood — Ger- 
ald de Clifford, of the old house of Clifford: my mother, 
Lilian Herbert. He displeased his father by his marriage, 
simply because my mother was poor; and so they went 
abroad, and led a wandering kind of life. My father died 
when I was still very young. My mother was in dire 
poverty when Harwood, as he called himself then, came 
. across her, and he soon persuaded her to marry him for 
my sake. Thank Heaven, she died before she found out 
the full measure of his infamy— that he was not _ only a 
dishonest gamester, but a thief, burglar. So I fell into his 
hands, and it was when a great robbery he had committed 
made Europe dangerous for a time that he went to Aus- 
tralia. He had no part in shooting you. You were left 
for dead when he and I found you; but from the time of 
that marriage he kept me in his power by threatening to 
reveal the truth to you; and though I had him. even yet J 
more in my power, yet he knew I would keep silence for 
your sake— the more when I knew you loved me; for then 
you would claim me — as you have clone now.’ . : 

44 Ay, that would I; and every shadow shall be cleared 
from your name, my wife. Not even for your mother’s 
sake shall this dastard be spared. Tell me who and what 
he really is, Beryl?” 

44 When at my trial,” Beryl answered, J you cross-ex- 
amined Mr. Roden, you elicited the fact that he had had a 
vaurien brother — ” 


SINISTER OR VICTIM? 


242 

44 Beryl! Harwood is Anthony Roden ?” 

44 Yes. He wrote to me that he meant to rob the 
Rodenhurst diamonds. There was no time — he meant 
there should not be — to reply, and tell him I would not 
, countenance the theft. All I could do was to do my best 
to save him from detection; that was how it was Enid 
found me so close to the room where the jewels were kept. 
The bulk of these jewels can not be recovered; but I man- 
aged to secure some that were valued as heir-looms, pre- 
tending that I would have them reset, and wear them. I 
hoped that one day I might be able to restore them, and 
that day has come.” 

Lorraine held the girl to him for a minute in silence; 
then he rose quickly. 

44 But Roden will escape,” he said. 

He went and opened the shutters; it was broad dawn. 

At that moment a confused sound was heard outside the 
library — the sound of several voices and approaching foot- 
steps. 

44 Vere!” Beryl exclaimed, hurriedly, 44 something has 
happened!” 

Lorraine drew her behind the curtains, and closed them, 
and went toward the door; but it was opened from with- 
out, and he saw Mr. Harrington, Gresham, and one of the 
gardeners. 

44 Ah, Lorraine!” cried Gresham, 44 we were searching 
for you. James has just caught a man lurking in the 
shrubbery; he seized the fellow, who attacked him, and 
James contrived to stun him.” 

44 Where is the man?” asked Lorraine. 44 Has any one 
seen him?” 

44 Not yet. James left him, and came to give the 
alarm — a burglar, of course, and there’s a ladder lying 
under this window.” 

44 Yes,” said Lorraine, 44 1 know it.” 

44 You know it?” gasped Gresham. 

Beryl pushed aside the curtain and stepped out into the 
room. 

44 Beryl Carolan — here!” fell from Gresham’s lips. 

The priest set his teeth, but said not a word. The gar- 
dener simply stared. 

Lorraine flung his arm round the girl’s form and drew 
her to his side. 


SINKER OR VICTIM? 


243 

“ Yes,” he said, 44 here, at the risk of her own life, to 
save mine, as she saved it ten years ago. Beryl Carolan 
is my wife!” 


CHAPTER LI. 

ANTHONY RODEN. 

It was a strange scene on which the light of the early 
morning fell. Anthony Roden — to call him by his real 
name — had been carried to one of the men-servant’s bed- 
rooms in the basement, and laid there, for Mr. Harrington 
had said he had not many hours to live. The blow given 
by the gardener had been sure and strong, and the ill- 
spent life was closing fast. 

By the bed-head the priest sat; by the bedside stood 
Lorraine and his young wife, and at the foot Emilie, 
hastily summoned, sat, her husband standing by her. 

When Roden’s senses first returned to him, and the 
priest urged him to make full confession of his guilt, he 
refused. 

44 Not I,” he said; 44 the girl’s brought me to this; she 
can get out of it the best way she can.” 

44 It will make little difference to her,” Mr. Harrington 
answered, calmly. 4 4 She can prove her innocence with- 
out your help. But you have nothing to gain by silence, 
and may as well do this one act of justice.” 

The dying man mused a little; then a sudden light 
gleamed in his eyes; the strange pride of the criminal took 
possession of him. 

44 All right,” he said, 44 1 don’t care if I do tell all 
about it. I’ve been successful up to now — ha! ha! You 
none of you guessed I was shamming lame, eh? — a capital 
dodge. But the great thing' was not to have an accom- 
plice — that’s it. Do your own work. You’re going to 
take it down, eh?” seeing the paper before Mr. Harrington . 
and the pen in his hand. 

44 Yes, I am going to take it down.” 

44 All right. My stuck-up brother won’t like the notion 
of his brother being a burglar, will he?” 

He had to rest a little before he went on: and then, 
pausing now and then, having many times to be kept up 
with restoratives, he confessed the robbery at Rodenhurst, 
and at Esher, and the theft of Emilie Gresham’s jewels; 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


2U 

and he was proceeding with that hideous vanity — infinitely 
more horrible in a dying man — to describe similar 44 opera- 
tions/’ as he called them abroad, when the priest sternly 
checked him, saying that no more was needed, and that he 
had only to sign the document already written out. He 
obeyed, being propped up by the priest to do so, and 
signed his own name, “ Anthony Roden,” and as he 
dropped the pen and was laid back, he said: 

44 1 haven’t signed that name for many a year.” 

They were the last articulate words he spoke. After 
that he muttered sometimes, his mind wandering to past 
occurrences in his evil life; but long before he died Lor- 
raine had taken Beryl from the room, and Emilie made 
the girl go with her to her own apartments. Mr. Harring- 
ton and Lorraine remained with Roden until the last. 

It was nearly eight o’clock when there was a gentle tap 
at Emilie’s dressing-room door. 

44 Come in,” Emilie said, and Lorraine entered, 

Mrs. Gresham was sitting in a fauteuil; Beryl, tem- 
porarily appareled in a dressing-robe of Emilie’s, was 
sitting at her hostess’s feet. 

Emilie got up, and drew Lorraine forward. 

44 This is your place,” she said, smiling. 44 No — no 
resistance; sit there, and I will take this place,” indicat- 
ing another fauteuil. 

Lorraine obeyed, and drew his wife close to him. That 
was all she needed now — just to rest within his arms; it 
was to her such a heaven as only one tried as she had been 
could know — a peace like that of the ransomed spirit set 
free from the trammels of clay. 

Lorraine stooped and kissed the white brow, and for 
some moments there was a silence which no one cared to 
break. 

When Lorraine spoke it was with an effort. 

44 Harwood is dead,” he said. 44 He died twenty min- 
utes ago.” 

Emilie shuddered; but Beryl drew a quick breath, but • 
did not move. 

44 A terrible death!” said Emilie in a low tone. 

44 Ay; but men who have lived such lives generally die 
as they lived. We must telegraph to Mr. Roden, Emmie— 
with your permission.” 

44 l)o whatever you think right, Vere,” said his cousin. 


SIOTER OR VICTIM? 


245 


“ Herbert, I know, is of one mind with me; and, of 
course, painful though it will be to Mr. Roden, the whole 
truth must be known/ ’ 

“ Certainly; Beryl’s name is before and above every 
other consideration. She shall not be misjudged one hour 
longer than I can help.” 

Another tap, and Herbert Gresham came in. 

Beryl looked up with a smile, and gave him her hand. 

He stooped and kissed it reverently. 

“ Herbert,” said his wife, “ will you see that a telegram 
is sent at once to Mr. Roden?” 

“Yes; I will dispatch ji mounted groom in ten min- 
utes.” 

“ Thanks so much. And please ask Mr. Harrington to 
come here, and return yourself. Beryl and Vere both wish 
you and me to know all. I wanted to wait, but Beryl will 
not have it so.” 

“No,” Beryl said; “ I shall feel happier when you know 
the full truth.” 

And Herbert Gresham went out. 

Beryl Carolan, Vere Lorraine’s wife, that was all he 
knew at present. When and where had the marriage 
taken place? 

Fortunately the party at Silver Ash broke up that day. 

The astonished guests heard from their hostess the 
strange story of last night and of the past; but they did 
not see Beryl, and all had departed before the afternoon, 
when Mr. Roden arrived at Silver Ash, marveling greatly 
why he was sent for. 

He was shown straight into the library, and in two min- 
utes Lorraine entered the room. 

“ Mr. Roden,” he said, “ I have a very painful disclos- 
ure to make to you; I will not keep you in suspense longer 
than I can help. Last autumn your family diamonds were 
stolen, as you believed, by Beryl Carolan. I succeeded in 
proving by negative evidence that she was innocent. I 
have now the positive evidence.” 

“ You mean,” exclaimed Mr. Roden, “ that you have 
found the thief?” 

“He is lying dead in this house, Mr. Roden. He 
attempted a robbery here and failed— through Beryl Caro- 
lan. ” 

“ Through — Beryl — Carolan?” 


246 


SINNER OR VICTIM? 


“ She suspected him, followed him, frustrated him. The 
robber was her step-father, J ustin Harwood— your brother— 
Anthony !” 

“ What!” Mr. Roden sprung to his feet as if shot. 
“ My brother! — impossible— he died abroad — fifteen years 
ago!” 

“ He died this morning,” said Lorraine, quietly. 
“ Stay! Do you know this' signature?” 

He held out a paper. 

Mr. Roden took it in his shaking hands and looked at 
the autograph. The paper fell, and Mr. Roden stared 
blankly at his questioner. 

“ Well,” said the other, “ you know it?” 

c ' 1 It looks like Anthony's writing, but — ” 

“ Come with me,” said Lorraine. “ You may recognize 
the man.” 

Mr. Roden followed without a word to the room where 
the dead man lay. He looked, started, looked more 
closely, and staggered back against the wall. 

“ It is Anthony!” he muttered, brokenly. “ Great 
Heaven! it is my brother!” 

Lorraine led him away. He was trembling like a child, 
and it was some time before he was able to read the con- 
fession of the wretched man for whose sin another had 
suffered. 

“ How should I dream of this?” muttered Mr. Roden, 
brokenly. “ How should I dream of it? But this — this 
crime — you will not publish it?” 

“ You forget that the cloud still rests on Beryl’s name. 
For her sake the truth must be known.” 

“ But my children — ” began the other. 

“They must suffer!” said Lorraine, sternly. “Were 
Beryl no more to me than she was the day she came to me 
to defend her, justice should be done. She is dearer to me 
than life itself. On his head who did the crime let the 
shame rest.” 

And Mr. Roden was silent. What could he say? 


CHAPTER LII. 

THE LAST ACT OF THE DRAMA. 

Of course for awhile the world talked of nothing else 
but the extraordinary facts brought to light by the con- 


SIOTER OR VICTIM? 


247 


fession of Anthony Roden and the attempt to rob Silver 
Ash. No romance ever written equaled that real romance 
of the Barra Creek marriage, and the wonderful heroism 
of the woman who, for her husband’s sake, endured a lifo 
of misery and the shame of a crime not committed. But 
so soon as Lorraine had taken steps to give the necessary 
publicity to the truth, he took his young wife abroad with 
him, to remain away until the first excitement had passed. 
They wanted only each other as yet, to be “ far from the 
madding crowd,” peace, rest, love — nothing more! 

And Enid? It was a rude shock to her to know how 
deeply she had wronged Beryl, but she was not sorry that 
they did not meet before Beryl left England. 

“ When she returns,” Enid said to her sister, “ I may 
be able to meet her: but just now I don’t feel as if I 
could.” 

The Rodens themselves went abroad for a few months, 
and when they returned, Ulric Hazlemere was one of their 
first visitors. 

“ What!” May said to him, softly, “ you do not shrink 
from the disgrace that has come upon our name?” 

“ The disgrace is not yours. May, and if your father will 
give you to me — ” 

But May would not let him finish the sentence. The 
next day, however, Hazlemere wrote a long letter to Lor- 
raine at Sorrento. 

The world was at Beryl Lorraine’s feet once more when 
she and her husband came back to London. Great people 
maneuvered for invitations to her salon . Not to know her 
was to argue yourself unknown. She reigned unrivaled. 
But she smiled and shrugged her shoulders, counting all 
the homage at its worth. 

“ I love very few people,” she would say to her husband 
— “ May Hazlemere, and Emilie, and Father Bernard.” 

“ Does that end the list?” he said to her one day, laugh- 
ing and drawing her to him. “ Am I outside the circle?” 

“ You, Vere?” She laid her golden head on his breast. 
“ It seems meaningless to say ‘ I love you,’ when I can 
say it to others. You I worship. You are my life— my 
whole existence!” 

“ And you,” he said, pressing his lips on hers, “ are 
mine!” 


THE EHD. 


FAMOUS 25 NOVELS 

FOB $1.00. 


These hooks are quarto size, printed on good 
paper, with handsome covers, and are 
COMPLETK and IHVAVKIhGED. 

An examination of this list will show that these books are the 
cream of English Literature. 

Westward Ho! By Charles Kingsley. 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas. 

The W andering Jew. By Eugene Sue. 

The Mysteries of Paris. By Eugene Sue. 

Don Quixote. By Cervantes. 

Tire Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. 

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On the Heights. " By Berthold Auerbach. „ 

Pickwick Papers. By Charles Dickens. 

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The Swiss Family Robinson. 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 

Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 

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Under Two Flags. By “ Ouida,” 

A Woman Hater. By Charles Reade. 

All Sorts and Conditions of Men. By Walter Besant 
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Address GEORGE MUNRO’S SONS, 

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Oct. 1, 1896. 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY, 

POCKET EDITION. 


AUTHORS’ CATALOGUE. 


[ When ordering by mail please order by numbers.] 


E. About. 

1467 A New Lease of Life — *25 

Mrs. Leith Adams. 

1345 Aunt Hepsy’s Fouudling*25 

Author of “Addie’s Hus- 
band.” 

388 Addie’s Husband; or. 
Through Clouds to Sun- 


shine 25 

504 My Poor Wife *25 

1046 Jessie *25 

Max Adeler. 

1550 Random Shots *25 

1569 Elbow Room *25 

Author of ‘‘A Fatal Dower.” 

372 Phyllis’s Probation 25 


Author of ‘‘A Golden Ear.” 

483 Betwixt My Love and Me.*25 

Author ot “A Great Mis- 
take.” 


1308 Pirates of the Prairies. . . 25 

1400 Queen of the Savannah. 35 

1401 The Buccaneer Chief 25 

1402 The Smuggler Hero 25 

1404 The Rebel Chief 25 

1650 The Trail-Hunter 25 

1653 The Pearl of the Andes.. 25 

1672 The Insurgent Chief 25 

1688 The Trapper's Daughter 35 

1690 The Tiger-Slayer 25 

1602 Border Rifles 25 

1700 The Flying Horseman. . . 25 

1701 The Freebooters 25 

1714 The White Scalper 25 

1723 The Guide of the Desert. 25 

1732 Last of the Aucas 25 

1734 Missouri Outlaws 25 

1736 Prairie Flower 25 

1740 Indian Scout 25 

1741 Stronghand 25 

1742 Bee-Hunters 25 

1744 Stoneheart 25 

1748 The Gold-Seekers 25 

1752 Indian Chief 25 

1756 Red Track 25 

1761 The Treasure of Pearls.. 25 
1768 Red River Half-Breed. . . 25 


244 A Great Mistake 25 

588 Cherry 25 

1040 Clarissa’s Ordeal 25 

1137 Prince Charming 25 

1187 Suzanne 25 


Author of “A Woman’s 
Love-Story*” 

322 A Womau’s Love-Story.. 25 


Grant Allen. 

712 For Maimie's Sake 25 

1221 The Tenrs of Shem ”... 25 

1783 The Great Taboo *25 

1870 What’s Bred in the Bone*25 
1008 Dumaresq's Daughter... *25 
2022 Duchess of Powysland. .*25 

Mrs. Alexander. 


Author of “ For Mother’s 
Sake.” 

1900 Leonie; or, The Sweet 
Street Singer of New 
York 25 

Hamilton Aide. 

£83 Introduced to Society.. .*25 

Gustave Aimnrd. 

1341 The Trappers of Arkan- 


sas 25 

1396 The Adventurers 25 


5 The Admiral’s Ward. .. 25 

17 The Wooing O't 25 

62 The Executor 25 

189 Valerie’s Fate 25 

229 Maid. Wife, or Widow?.. 25 

236 Which Shall it Be? 25 

330 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier 

Maid 25 

490 A Second Life 25 

•564 At Bay 25 

704 Beaton’s Bargain 25 

707 Look Before You Leap.. 25 

805 The Freres 25 

806 Her Dearest Foe 25 


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814 The Heritage of Langdale 25 

815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird... 25 

900 By Woman’s Wit 25 

997 Forging the Fetters, and 

The Australian Aunt. ...*25 

1054 Mona's Choice 25 

1057 A Life Interest 25 

1189 A Crooked Path 25 

1199 A False Scent 25 

1367 Heart Wins *25 

1459 A Woman’s Heart 25 

1571 Blind Fate 25 

2158 What Gold Can Not Buy. 25 

Mrs. Alderdice. 

1582 An Interesting Case 25 

Alison. 

481 The House That Jack 
Built *25 

Hans Christian Andersen. 
1314 Andersen’s Fairy Tales.. 25 
VV. P. Andrews, 

1172 India and Her Neighbors*25 

F. Anstey. 

59 Vice Versa 25 

225 The Giant’s Robe 25 

503 The Tinted Venus. A 

Farcical Romance 25 

819 A Fallen Idol 25 

1616 The Black Poodle, and 
Other Tales *25 

G. W. Appleton. 

1346 A Terrible Legacy *25 

T. S. Arthur. 

1337 Woman’s Trials *25 

1636 The Two Wives 25 

1638 Married Life *25 

1640 Ways of Providence *25 

1641 Home Scenes *25 

1644 Stories for Parents *25 

1649 Seed-Time and Harvest. *25 

1652 Words for the Wise *25 

1654 Stories for Young House- 
keepers *25 

1657 Lessons In Life *25 

1658 Off-Hand Sketches *25 

Sir Samuel Baker. 

267 Rifle and Hound in Cey- 
lon 25 

533 Eight Years Wandering 

in Ceylon 25 

1502 Cast Up by the Sea 25 

It. M. Rallantyne. 

89 The Red Eric 25 

95 The Fire Brigade. 25 

96 Erling the Bold *25 


772 Gascoyne, the Sandal- 


Wood Trader 25 

1514 Deep Down 25 

Honore De Balzac. 

776 PereGoriot 26 

1128 Cousin Pons 25 

1318 The Vendetta 25 

S. Baring-Gould. 

787 Court Royal ...*25 

878 Little Tu’penny *25 

1122 Eve *25 

1201 Mehalah : A Story of the 

Salt Marshes *25 

1697 Red Spider *25 

1711 The Pennycomequicks...*25 

1763 John Herring *25 

1779 Arminell *25 

1821 Urith *25 

Frank Barrett. 

986 The Great Hesper. 25 

1138 A Recoiling Vengeance.. *25 

1245 Fettered for life *25 

1461 Smuggler’s Secret 25 

1611 Between Life and Death. 25 
1750 Lieutenant Barnabas.... *25 

J. M. Barrie. 

1896 My Lady Nicotine 25 

1977 Better Dead 25 

2099 Auld Licht Idylls 25 


2100 A Window in Thrums. .. 25 

2101 When a Man s Single... 25 

Basil. 

344 “The Wearing of the 


Green ” *25 

585 A Drawn Game *25 

G. M. Bayne. 

1618 Galaski *25 

Anne Beale. 

188 Id on ea 25 

199 The Fisher Village *25 

Alexander Begg. 

1605 Wrecks in the Sea of 
Life *25 

By the Writer of “Belle’s 
Letters.’’ 

2091 Vashti and Esther 25 

E. B. Benjamin. 

1706 Jim, the Parson *25 

1720 Our Roman Palace *25 


A. Benrimo. 

1624 Vic *35 

Books marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers. 


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E. F. Benson. 

2105 Dodo 25 

E. Berger. 

1646 Charles Auchester 25 

E. Berthel. 

1689 The Sergeant’s Legacy.. *25 

Walter Besant. 

97 All in a Garden Fair 25 

137 Uncle Jack ..*25 

140 A Glorious Fortune *25 

146 Love Finds the Way,and 
Other Stories. By Besant 

and Rice.... *25 

230 Dorothy FOrster 25 

324 In Luck at Last 25 

541 Uncle Jack 25 

651 “ Self or Bearer ” *25 

882 Children of Gibeon 25 

904 The Holy Rose *25 

906 The World Went Very 

Well Then 25 

980 To Call Her Mine 25 

1055 Katharine Regina *25 

1065 Herr Paulus: His Rise, 
His Greatness, and His 

Fall *25 

1143 The Inner House *25 

1151 For Faith and Freedom.. *25 
1240 The Bell of St. Paul’s. . . .*25 
1247 The Lament of Dives — 25 
1378 They Were Married. By 
Walter Besant and Jas. 

Rice 25 

1413 Armorel of Lyonesse 25 

1462 Let Nothing You Dismay*25 
1530 When the Ship Comes 
Home. By Besant and 

Rice *25 

1655 The Demoniac 25 

1861 St. Katherine’s by the 

Tower *25 

M. Beth ani-Ed wards. 

273 Love and Mirage ; or, The 
Waiting on an Island. . .*25 
579 The Flower of Doom, and 

Other Stories *25 

594 Doctor Jacob *25 

1023 Next of Kin— Wanted... *25 
1407 The Parting of the Ways*25 

1500 Disarmed *25 

1543 For One and the World.. *25 
1627 A Romance of the Wire. *25 

Jennie Gwynne Bettany. 
1810 A Laggard in Love *25 

Bjornstjerne Bjornson. 

1385 Arne 25 

1388 The Happy Boy 25 


William Black. 

1 Yolande 25 

18 Shandon Bells 25 

21 Sunrise: A Story of These 

Times 25 

23 A Princess of Thule 25 

39 Iu Silk Attire 25 

44 Macleod of Dare 25 

49 That Beautiful Wretch.. 25 

50 The Strange Adventures 

of a Phaeton 25 

70 White Wings: A Yacht- 
ing Romance 25 

78 Madcap Violet 25 

81 A Daughter of Heth. ... 25 

124 Three Feathers 25 

125 The Monarch of Mincing 

Lane 25 

126 Kilmeny 25 

138 Green Pastures and Pic- 
cadilly 25 

265 Judith Shakespeare: Her 
Love Affairs and Other 

Adventures 25 

472 The Wise Women of In- 
verness *25 

627 White Heather 25 

898 Romeo and Juliet: A Tale 
of Two Young Fools. . . 25 

962 Sabina Zembra *25 

1096 The Strange Adventures 

of a House-Boat *25 

1132 In Far Lochaber 25 

1227 The Penance of John 

Logan *25 

1259 Nanciebel: A Tale of 

Stratford-on-Avon 25 

1268 Prince Fortunatus *25 

1389 Oliver Goldsmith *25 

1394 The Four Macnicols, and 

Other Tales 25 

1426 An Adventure in Thule.. *25 

1505 Lady Silverdale’s Sweet- 

heart 25 

1506 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, 

M. P *25 

1725 Stand Fast, Craig-Roy- 
ston * 25 

1892 Donald Ross of Heimra.. 25 

R. D. Blackinove. 

67 Lorna Doone. 25 

427 The Remarkable History 
of Sir Thomas Upmore, 

Bart., M. P 25 

615 Mary Anerley 25 

625 Erema; or, My Father’s 
Sin 25 

629 Cripps, the Carrier 25 

630 Cradock Nowell 25 

631 Christo well *25 

632 Clara Vaughan 25 

633 The Maid of Sker 25 

636 Alice Lorraine 25 


Books marked thus * are present in Alligator covers. 


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THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. 


926 Springhaven 25 

1267 Kit and Kitty *25 

Isa Blagden. 

705 The Woman I Loved, and 
the Woman Who Loved 
Me 25 

C. Blatlierwick. 

151 The Ducie Diamonds — *25 
Edgar Janes Bliss. 

2102 The Peril of Oliver Sar- 
gent 25 

Frederick Boyle. 

856 The Good Hater *25 

Miss M. E. Braddon. 

35 Lady Aud ley’s Secret... 25 

56 Phantom Fortune 25 

74 Aurora Floyd 25 

110 Under the Red Flag *25 

153 The Golden Calf *25 

204 Vixen 25 

211 The Octoroon 25 

234 Barbara; or, Splendid 

Misery. 25 

263 An Ishmaelite *25 

315 The Mistletoe Bough. 
Christmas, 1884. Edited 
by Miss M. E. Braddon. 25 

434 Wy Ward’s Weird 25 

478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s 

Daughter 25 

480 Married in Haste. Edi- 
ted by Miss M. E. Brad- 
( j on ^ 25 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon *25 

488 Joshua H a g g a r d- s 

Daughter _ 25 

489 Rupert Godwin 25 

495 Mount Royal *25 

496 Only a Woman. Edited 

by Miss M. E. Braddon. *25 

497 The Lady’s Mile *25 

498 Only .a Clod *25 

499 The Cloven Foot 25 

51 1 A Strange World 25 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant *25 

524 Strangers and Pilgrims. *25 

529 The Doctor's Wife *25 

542 Fenton s Quest *25 

544 Cut by the County; or.* 

Grace Darnel *25 

548 A Fatal Marriage, and 

The Shadow in the Cor- 
ner 25 

549 Dudley Carleon; or, The 

Brother's Secret, and 
George Caulfield’s Jour- 
ney *25 

552 Hostages to Fortune. ..*25 

553 Birds of Prey 25 


554 Charlotte's Inheritance. 
(Sequel to “ Birds of 

Prey ”) 25 

557 To the Bitter End. 25 

559 Taken at the Flood *25 

560 Asphodel 25 

561 Just as I am; or, A Liv- 

ing Lie 25 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes 25 

570 John Marchmont’s Leg- 
acy *25 

618 The Mistletoe Bough. 
Christmas, 1885. Edited 
by Miss M. E. Braddon. 25 
840 One Thing Needful; or, 

The Penalty of Fate... *25 

881 M ohaw ics *25 

890 The Mistletoe Bough. 
Christmas, 1886. Edited 
by Miss M. E. Braddon. .*25 
943 Weavers and Weft; or, 

“ Love that Hath Us in 

His Net” *25 

947 Publicans and Sinners; 

or, Lucius Davoren *25 

1036 Like and Unlike 25 

1098 The Fatal Three 25 

1211 The Day Will Come 25 

1411 Whose Was the Hand?. . 25 

1664 Dead Sea Fruit *25 

1893 The World, Flesh and the 

Devil 25 

Annie Bradshaw. 

706 A Crimson Stain *25 

Charlotte M. Brneme, Au- 
thor of “ Dora Thome.” 

19 Her Mother’s Sin 25 

51 Dora Thorne 25 

54 A Broken Wedding-Ring 25 

68 A Queen Amongst 

Women 25 

69 Madolin’s Lover 25 

73 Redeemed by Love; or, 

Love's Victory 25 

76 Wife in Name Only; or, 

A Broken Heart 25 

79 Wedded and Parted 25 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 25 

148 4' h orns and Orange- 

Blossoms 25 

'190 Romance of a Black Veil 25 
194 ” So Near, and Yet So 

Far!” 25 

220 Which Loved Him Best? 25 

237 Repented at Leisure 25 

246 A Fatal Dower 25 

249 ” Prince Charlie’s Daugh- 

ter;” or. The Cost of 
Her Love 25 

250 Sunshine and Roses; or, 

Diana’s Discipline 25 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and 
Fair but False 25 


Books marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers. 


POCKET EDITION. 


7 


278 For Life and Love 25 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime: 
or, Vivien's Atonement 25 

201 Love's Warfare 25 

202 A Golden Heart 25 

290 A Rose in Thorns 25 

209 The Fatal Lilies, and A 

Bride from the Sea 25 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A 
Bridge of Love 25 

303 Ingledew House, and 

More Bitter than Death 25 

304 In Cupid's Net 26 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady 

Gwendoline’s Dream... 25 

306 A Golden Dawn, and 

Love for a Day 25 

807 Two Kisses, and Like no 

Other Love 25 

308 Beyond Pardon 25 

322 A Woman’s Love-Story. 25 

323 A Willful Maid 25 

335 The White Witch 25 

352 At Any Cost 25 

411 A Bitter Atonement 25 

430 A Bitter Reckoning 25 

433 My Sister Kate • 25 

450 A Woman’s Temptation. 25 

460 Under a Shadow 25 

461 His Wedded Wife 25 

465 The Earl's Atonement. .. 25 

466 Between Two Loves 25 

467 A Struggle for a Ring. . . 25 

469 Lady Darner’s Secret — 25 

470 Evelyn’s Folly 25 

471 Thrown on the World... 25 
476 Between Two Sins; or, 

Married in Haste 25 

516 Put Asunder; or. Lady 
Castlemaine’s Divorce. 25 

518 The Hidden Sin 25 

519 James Gordon’s Wife. .. 25 
547 A Coquette’s Conquest.. 25 

576 Her Martyrdom 25 

626 A Fair Mystery; or, The 

Perils of Beauty 25 

628 Wedded Hands 25 

677 Griselda ....25 

741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; 
or. The Romance of a 

Young Girl 25 

745 For Another’s Sin; or, A 

Struggle for Love 25 

755 Margery Daw 25 

759 In Shallow Waters 25 

778 Society's Verdict 25 

792 Set in Diamonds 25 

807 If Love Be Love 25 

821 The World Between 

Them 25 

822 A Passion Flower 25 

829 The Actor’s Ward 25 

853 A True Magdalen 25 

854 A Woman's Error 25 


922 Marjorie 25 

923 At War With Herself.... 25 

924 ’Twixt Smile and Tear.. . 25 

927 Sweet Cymbeiine 25 

928 The False Vow: or, 

Hilda : or. Lady Hut- 
ton's Ward 25 

928 Lady Hutton’s Ward; or, 
Hilda; or, The False 
Vow 25 

928 Hilda; or. The False 

Vow; or, Ladv Hutton’s 
Ward 25 

929 The Belle of Lynn: or, 

The Miller’s Daughter.. 25 

931 Lady Diana’s Pride 25 

933 A Hidden Terror 25 

948 The Shadow of a Sin — 25 

949 Claribel’s Love Story; or, 

Love’s Hidden Depths - . 25 

952 A Woman's War. 25 

953 Hilary’s Folly; cr, Her 

Marriage Vow' 25 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; 

or. From Out the Gloom 25 
958 A Haunted Life; or, Her 

Terrible Sin 25 

964 A Struggle for the Right 25 

968 Blossom and Fruit; or, 

Madame’s Ward 25 

969 The Mystery of Colde 

Fell; or. Not Proven... 25 
973 The Squire’s Darling... 25 
975 A Dark Marriage Morn.. 25 

978 Her Second Love 25 

982 The Duke's Secret 25 

985 On Her Wedding Morn, 
and The Mystery of the 

Holly-Tree 25 

988 The Shattered Idol, and 

Lettv Leigh 25 

990 The Earl’s Error, and 

Arnold’s Promise 25 

995 An Unnatural Bondage, 
and That Beautiful 

Lady 25 

1006 His Wife’s Judgment.... 25 
1008 A Thorn in Her Heart.. 25 

1010 Golden Gates 25 

1012 A Nameless Sin 25 

1014 A Mad Love 25 

1031 Irene's Vow 25 

1052 Signa’s Sweetheart 25 

1091 A Modern Cinderella 25 

11:44 Lord Elesmere s Wife — 25 
1155 Lured Away; or, The 
Story of a Wedding- 
Ring, and The Heiress 

of Arne 25 

1179 Beauty 's Marriage 25 

1185 A Fiery Ordeal 25 

1188 Guelda 25 

1195 Dumaresq's Temptation. 25 
1285 Jenny. 25 


Books marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers. 


8 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY 


1291 The Star of Love 25 

1328 Lord Lisle's Daughter. . 25 
1338 A Woman's Vengeance. 25 

1343 Dream Faces 25 

1373 The Story of an Error.. 25 
1415 Weaker than a Woman. 25 
1628 Love Works Wonders. . . 25 

2010 Her Only Sin 25 

2011 A Fatal Wedding 25 

2012 A Bright Wedding-Day. . 25 

2013 One Against Many 25 

2014 One False Step 25 

2015 Two Fair Women 25 

2068 Lady Latimer's Escape. 25 


Fredrfkn Bremer. 

187 The Midnight Sun *25 

Charlotte Bronte. 

15 Jane Eyre 25 

57 Shirley 25 

944 The Professor 25 

Rhoda Broughton. 

86 Belinda 25 

101 Second Thoughts 25 

227 Nancy 25 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains 25 
758 “Good-bye, Sweet- 

heart 1” 25 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Well 25 

767 Joan 25 

768 Red as a Rose is She 25 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower. 25 

862 Betty’s Visions 25 

894 Doctor Cupid *25 

1599 Alas! *25 

Louise de Bruneval. 

1686 Soeur Louise *25 

Robert Buchanan. 

145 “ Storm - Beaten God 

and The Man 25 

154 Annan Water *25 

181 The New Abelard *25 

268 The Martyrdom of Mad- 
eline *25 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Cara- 
van *25 

468 The Shadow of the Sword*25 

646 The Master of the Mine. *25 
892 That Winter Night; or, 

Love's Victory 25 

1074 Stormy Waters *25 

1104 The Heir of Linne *25 

1350 Love Me Forever 25 

1455 The Moment After *25 

John Bunyan. 

1498 The Pilgrim’s Progress. . 25 


Captain Fred Burnaby. 

330 “ Our Radicals ” *25 

375 A Ride to Khiva 25 

384 On Horseback Through 
Asia Minor 25 

John Bloundelle-Burton. 

913 The Silent Shore; or. 
The Mystery of St 
James’ tark *25 

Beatrice M. Butt. 

1354 Delicia *25 

E. Lasseter Bynner. 

1456 Nimport *25 

1460 Tritons *25 

Lord Byron. 

719 Childe Harold's Pilgrim- 
age 25 

E. Fairfax Byrrne. 

521 Entangled *25 

538 A Fair Country Maid *25 

Mrs. Caddy. 

127 Adrian Bright *25 

Hall Caine. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime. 25 
520 She’s All the World to 

Me 25 

1234 The Deemster 25 

1255 The Bondman. . . ... 25 

2079 A Sen of Hagar 25 

Mona Cnird. 

1699 The Wing of Azrael *25 

Ada Cambridge. 

1583 A Marked Man 25 

1967 My Guardian *25 

2139 The Three Miss Kings. . . 25 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. 

595 A North Country Maid. . 25 

796 In a Grass Country 25 

891 Vera Nevill; or, Poor 

Wisdom’s Chance *25 

912 Pure Gold *25 

963 Worth Winning 25 

1025 Daisy’s Dilemma 25 

1028 A Devout Lover, or, A 

Wasted Love 25 

1070 A Life’s Mistake 25 

1204 The Lodge by the Sea. .. 25 

1205 A Lost Wife 25 

1236 Her Father’s Daughter. . 25 
1261 Wild George’s Daughter. 25 

1290 The Cost of a Lie 25 

1292 Bosky Dell *25 

1782 A Dead Past *25 

1819 Neck or Nothing *25 


Hooks marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers. 


POCKET EDITION. 


9 


Lady Colin Campbell. 
1395 Darell Blake *25 

Rosa Nouchette Carey. 

S15 Not Like Other Girls... 25 
396 Robert Ord’s Atonement 25 
551 Barbara Heathcote’s 

Trial 25 

608 For Lilias 25 

930 Uncle Max 25 

932 Queenie’s Whim 25 

934 Wooed and Married 25 

936 Nellie's Memories 25 

961 Wee Wide 25 

1033 Esther: A Story for Girls 25 

1064 Only the Governess 25 

1135 Aunt Diana 25 

1194 The Search for Basil 

Lyndhurst 25 

1208 Merle’s Crusade 25 

1545 Lover or Friend?... 25 

1879 Mary St. John 25 

1965 Averil 25 

1966 Our Bessie 25 

1968 Heriot’s Choice 25 

William Carleton. 

1493 Willy Reilly 25 

1552 Shane Fadh’s Wedding.. 25 

1553 LarryMcFarland’sWake 25 

1554 The Party Fight and 

Funeral 25 

1556 The Midnight Mass *25 

1557 Phil Purcel *25 

1558 An Irish Oath *25 

1560 Going to Maynooth *25 

1561 Phelim O’Toole’s Court- 

ship 25 

1562 Dominick, the Poor 

Scholar 25 

1564 Neal Malone *25 

Alice Corny ns Carr. 

571 Paul Crew’s Story *25 

Lewis Carroll. 

462 Alice’s Adventures in 
Wonderland. Illustrated 

by John Tenniel 25 

789 Through the Looking- 
Glass, and What Alice 
Found There. Illustra- 
ted by John Tenniel — 25 

Cervantes. 

1576 Don Quixote 25 

Li. W. Cliampney. 

1468 Bourbon Lilies *25 

Erckmann-Chatrian. 

389 The Polish Jew. (Trans- 
lated from the French 
by Caroline A. MerighU 25 


Victor Cherbuliez. 

1516 Samuel Brohl & Co *2S 

Mrs. C. M. Clarke. 

1801 More True than Truthful*25 

W. M. Clemens. 

1544 Famous Funny Fellows. *25 

Mrs. W. K. Clifford. 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime 25 

2104 Love Letters of a World- 
ly Woman 25 

J. Maclaren Cobban. 

485 Tinted Vapours *25 

1279 Master of His Fate *25 

1511 A Reverend Gentleman . *25 
John Coleman. 

504 Curly : An Actor’s Story 25 
C. R. Coleridge. 

403 An English Squire *25 

1689 A Near Relation *25 

Beatrice Collensie. 

1352 A Double Marriage *25 

Mabel Collins. 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daugh- 
ter 25 

828 The Prettiest Woman in 

Warsaw — 25 

1463 Ida: An Adventure in 
Morocco *25 

Wilkie Collins. 

52 The New Magdalen 25 

102 The Moonstone 25 

167 Heart and Science 25 

168 No Thoroughfare. By 

Dickens and Collins. . ..*25 
175 Love’s Random Shqt, 

and Other Stories 25 

233 “I Say No;” or, The 
Love-Letter Answered. 25 

598 The Girl at the Gate 25 

591 The Queen of Hearts 28 

613 The Ghost’s Touch, and 
Percy and the Prophet. *25 
623 My Lady’s Money 25 

701 The Woman in White... 25 

702 Man and Wife 25 

764 The Evil Genius 25 

896 The Guilty Jtiver *25 

946 The Dead Secret 25 

977 The Haunted Hotel 25 

1029 Armadale 25 

1095 The Legacy of Cain 25 

1119 No Name 25 

1269 Blind Love 25 

1347 A Rogue's Life 25 

1608 Tales of Two Idle Ap- 
prentices. By Dickens 
and Collins *25 


Books marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers . 


THE SEASIBE LIBRARY. 

POCKET EDITION. 


JL A T N 'V 

2107 Jacob Faithful. By Captain 

Marryat 25 

2108 Reveries of a Bachelor. By 

Ik. Marvel 25 

2109 Micah Clarke. By A. Conan 

Doyle 25 

2110 Two Dianas, The. By Alex- 

ander Dumas 25 

2111 Black Tulip, The. By Alex- 

ander Dumas 25 

2112 Olyrnpe de C16ves. By Alex- 

ander Dumas 25 

2113 Chevalier d'Harmental, The; 

or, The Conspirators. B 3 ' Al- 
exander Dumas 25 

2114 Regent’s Daughter, The. By 

Alexander Dumas. 25 

2115 Marguerite de Valois. By’ Al- 

exander Dumas 25 

2116 La, Dame de Monsoreau; or, 

Chicot the Jester. By r Alex- 
ander Dumas 25 

2117 Forty-Five Guardsmen, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. ... — 25 

2118 Joseph Balsamo. By Alexan- 

der Dumas 25 

2119 Memoirs of a Physician. By 

Alexander Dumas 25 

2120 Queen's Necklace, The. By 

Alexander Dumas 25 

2121 Ange Pitou ; or, Taking the 

Bastile; or. Six Years Later. 

By Alexander Dumas 25 

2122 Countess de Charny, The. By 

Alexander Dumas 25 

2123 Andr 6 e de Taverney. By Al- 

exander Dumas 25 

2124 Chevalier de Maison Rouge. 

Bv Alexander Dumas 25 

8125 First Republic, The; or, The 
Whites and the Blues. By 
Alexander Dumas 25 

2126 Company of Jehu, The. By 

Alexander Dumas 25 

2127 She Wolves of Machecoul.The; 

or, The Last Vendee. By r Al- 
exander Dumas 25 

2128 Corsican Brothers, The. By 

Alexander Dumas 25 

2129 Captain Brand, of the Schoon- 

er ’‘Centipede” By Lieut. 

H. A. Wise, U. S. N 25 

2130 Timar’s Two Worlds. By Mau- 

rice Jokai 25 

2131 American Notes. ByRudyard 

Kipling 25 

2132 Ardath. By Marie Corelli 25 


I S S 17 E S . 

2133 Courting of Dinah Shadd, The. 

By Rudyard Kipling 25 

2134 Edmond Dantes. By Alexan- 

der Dumas 25 

2135 Hunchback of Notre Dame. 

The. By Victor Hugo 25 

2136 Romance of Two Worlds, A. 

By Mane Corelli 25 

2137 Social Departure, A. By Sara 

Jeannette Duncan 25 

2138 Son of Porthos, The. By Al- 

exander Dumas 25 

2139 Three Miss Kings, The. By 

Ada Cambridge 25 

2140 Sport Royai. By Anthony 

Hope 25 

2141 Praam Life. By Ik. Marvel. . . 25 

2142 Tales of Mean Streets. By Ar- 

thur Morrison 25 

2143 Picture of Dorian Gray, The. 

By Oscar Wilde 25 

2144 Poems by Oscar Wilde 25 

2145 Abandoned, The. By Jules 

Verne 25 

2146 Secret of the Island, The. By 

Jules Verne 25 

2147 Man of Mark, A. By Anthony 

Hope 25 

2148 Ninety-Three. By Victor Hugo 25 

2149 Toilers of the Sea. By Victor 

Hugo 25 

2150 Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush. 

By Ian Maclaren 25_ 

2151 Uncle Tom s Cabin. By Har- 

riet Beecher Stowe 25 

2152 Surgeon of Gaster Fell, The. 

By A. Conan Doyle 25 

2153 As in a Looking Glass. By F. 

C. Philips 25 

2154 Peter Simple. By Captain Mar- 

ryat. 25 

2155 Percival Keene. By Captain 

Marryat ... 2? 

2156 Dean and His Daughter. The. 

By F. C. Philips 25 

2157 Dr. Phillips. By Frank Danby 25 

2158 What Gold Cannot Buy. By 

Mrs. Alexander 25 

2159 Madame 3ans-Geoe. By Ed- 

mond Lepelletier 25 

2160 By Order of the King (L'Hom- 

me Qui Rit). By Victor Hugo 25 

2161 History of a Crime, The. By 

Victor Hugo 2 fc 

2162 Gray Eye or So, A. By Frank 

Frankfort Moore 26 

2153 Wide, Wide World, The. By 
Elizabeth Wetherell 25 


The foregoing works are for sale by all newsdealers, or will ba sent to any 
address, postage free, on receipt of 25 cents per copy, or we will send nine 
books for two dollars. Address 


GrEORGKE MUNRO’S SONS, Publishers, 

CP. O. Box 2781.) 17 to 27. Vaaae water Street, Hew York* 


THE ART OF HOUSEKEEPING. 

BY MARY STUART SMITH. 

WITH HANDSOME LITHOGRAPHED COVER. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 

A thoroughly practical book on housekeeping by an experienced and 
celebrated housekeeper. Mas. Smith is a capable and distinguished writer 
upon all subjects connected with the kitchen and household.. She is one of the 
m>'8t popular contributors to Thic Nkw York and Paris Young Ladies’ Fash- 
ion Lazar, where the chapters contained in this work first appeared. 


GOOD FORM: 

A BOOK OF EVERY DAY ETIQUETTE. 

BY MRS. ARMSTRONG. 

Price 25 Cents. 

No one aspiring to the manners of a lady or gentleman can afford to be 
without a copy of this invaluable book, which is certain to spare its possessor 
many embarrassments incidental to the novice in forms of etiquette. 


MFARO’S star recitations. 

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25 


1 My Own Sin. By Mary E. Bryan. 

2 The Rock or The Rye. (After 

“ The Quick or the Dead.” By 

T. C. DeLeon . . . .' 25 

8 Shadow and Sunshine. By Adna 
H. Lightner 25 

4 Daisy Brooks. By Laura Jean 

Libbey 25 

5 Tiie Heiress of Cameron Hall. 

By Laura Jean Libbey 25 

6 Marriage. By Margaret Lee 25 

7 Lizzie Adriance. Margaret Lee 25 

8 Madolin Rivers. By Laura Jean 

Libbey \ 25 

9 Saints and Sinners. Marie Walsh 25 

10 Leonie Locke. By Laura Jean 

Li obey 25 

11 Junie’s Love-Test. By Laura 

Jean Libbey 25 

12 Ida Chaloner’s Heart. By Lucy 

Randall Comfort 25 

13 Uncle Ned’s White Child. By 

Mrs. Mary E. Bryan 25 

14 All for Love of a Fair Face. By 

Laura Jean Libbey . ! 25 

15 A Struggle for a Heart. By Lau- 

ra Jean Libbey 25 

16 Little Rosebud's Lovers. By 

Laura Jean Libbey 25 

17 Vendetta; or, The Southern Heir- 

ess. By Lucy Randall < omfort. 25 

18 Laurel Vane. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller > 25 

19 Married for Money. By Luey 

Randall Comfort..?! 25 

20 Muriel. By Christine Carlton.. . 25 

21 Sworn to Silence. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 25 

22 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A 

Sequel to “The Count of 
Monte-Cristo” 25 

23 Love and Jealousy. By Lucy 

Randall Comfort 25 

24 Hazel Kirke. By Marie Walsh . . 25 

25 The Belle of Saratoga. By Lucy 

Randall Comfort 25 

26 Manch. By Mrs. Mary E. Bryan 25 

27 Her Second Choice. By Char- 

lotte M. Stanley 25 

28 Eve the Factory Girl. By Lucy 

Randall Comfort 25 

29 His Country Cousin. By Char- 

lotte M. Stanley 25 

30 Ruth the Outcast. Mary E. Bryan 25 

31 Sold For Gold. By Mrs. E. Burke 

Collins 25 

32 A Misplaced Love. By Charlotte 

M. Stanley 25 

33 Love at Saratoga. By Lucy 

Randall Comfort 25 

34 Estella's Husband. By May 

Agnes Fleming 25 

35 The Little Light-House Lass. 

By Elizabeth Stiles 25 

The above works are for sale bv all newsdealers, or 
on receipt of the price, 25 cents each. Address 

GEORGE MUNKQ’S SONS, Mitnuo’s Publishing Housk. 
P. O. Box 2781. 11 


PRICK. 


36 Wild and Willful. By Lucy Ran- 

dall Comfort 25 

37 Lady Gay’s Pride. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 25 

38 Lillian's Vow. By Mrs. E. Burke 

Collins 25 

39 Lottie and Vietorine. By Lucy 

Randall Comfort 25 

40 The Banker's Daughter. By Mag- 

dalen Barrett 25 

41 The Baronet's Bride. By May 

Agnes Fleming \ 25 

42 Lancaster’s Choice. By Mrs 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

43 Tiger-Lily. By Mrs. Alex. Mc- 

Veigh Miller 25 

44 The Pearl and the Ruby. By Mrs. 

Alex. McVeigh Miller... 25 

45 Beautiful lone’s Lover. By Laura 

Jean Libbey 25 

46 Eric Braddon’s Love. By’ Mrs. 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

47 Frou-Frou. From the French of 

MM. Meilhac and Halevy\ By 
Charlotte M. Stanley 25 

48 The Unseen Bridegroom. By May 

Agnes Fleming 25 

49 Little Sweetheart. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 25 

50 Flower and Jewel. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 25 

51 Little Nobod.y. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 25 

52 The Depth of Love. By Hannah 

Blomgren 25 

53 Cast Upon His Care. Dora Delmar 52 

54 The Secret of Estcourt. By Dora 

Delmar 25 

55 May Blossom. By r Margaret Lee. 25 

56 Under Five Lakes. By M. Quad. 25 

57 The Fugitive Bride (The Bayou 

Bride). By Mary E. Bryan ... 25 

58 Kildee; or, The Sphinx of the 

Red House. By Mary 7 E. Bryan 25 

59 A Tempting Offer. Dora Delmar 25 
oO A Heart of Fire. By Jean Corey 25 

61 Answ ered in Jest. Dora Delmar 25 

62 His Legal Wife. Mary E. Bryan 25 

63 Nan Haggard, the Heiress of 

Dead Hopes Mine. By Mary 
E. Bryan 25 

64 The Girl He Bought. By 7 Mrs. 

Mary E. Bryan 25 

65 A Handsome Sinner. By Dora 

Delmar 25 

66 In the Golden City. By Dora 

Delmar 25 

67 Bv a Golden Cord. Dora Delmar 25 

68 Where Love Leads. By Dora 

Delmar 25 

69 Sinner or Victim? By Dora Del- 

mar 25 


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